Elin’s POV

My thumb hovers over the burner number, the screen's glow cutting shadows in the dim office corner. Lunch break ticks down, but my gut churns—Gerald's voice from last time still rough in my head, all gravel and grudges. Istha paces inside, silver claws scraping impatience. *Call. Dig.*

I hit dial, press the phone to my ear, and slip deeper into the stairwell echo. It rings sharp, twice, then clicks.

"Who?" His voice snaps, wary edge like he's mid-duck.

"Gerald. It's me. From ...