The phone still buzzed faintly in Jaxon’s hand, as though Jason’s words had left behind an echo. My pulse hammered so hard I thought my ribs would crack. The warehouse felt smaller by the second, its shadows suffocating, pressing me toward choices I didn’t want to make.

“Talk to me, Jaxon,” I demanded, voice breaking. “What happened at the docks?”

His eyes met mine, storm-gray and unreadable. I wanted him to speak, to rip the silence apart, to tell me Jason was lying. But his ...