The heavy, suffocating silence that followed the sudden click of the dead burner phone felt like a physical blow.
I sat frozen in my leather seat, my hands gripping the armrests as I stared at my husband. The low, rhythmic drone of the jet engines plunging us toward San Francisco felt completely distant compared to the absolute storm brewing on Asher's face.
I had seen him furious before, but the expression tightening his jaw right now made my blood run cold. It was a terrifying mixture of deadly calculation and a deep, archaic pain.
