Adrian's POV
Poker night at Owen's place was Damian's idea—an attempt to lift Owen's spirits since he'd been down in the dumps after Thea left town. I only showed up because Owen had always been there for me when I needed him, and I couldn't let him down now. But my mind was elsewhere, and I had no intention of staying long. All I wanted was to get back home to Stella.
As the game progressed, I found myself unable to focus. Something felt off, like a persistent itch I couldn't scratch. Atlas's repeated calls weren't helping my mood either. I ignored the first two, sending them to voicemail, but by the third ring, concern won out. What if the kid was actually in trouble?
"What is it, Atlas?" I snapped, my tone sharper than intended.
"Hello to you too, uncle. I'm great, thanks for asking. How about you?" His sarcasm was thick whenever I answered him with attitude.
"Cut the crap, kid. You sound fine to me," I retorted, already regretting picking up.
