The line went dead. Zara froze. The phone slipped in her grip, the edge biting into her palm. Her chest rose fast, too fast. The air felt heavy, like someone had pressed a hand over her mouth. She looked at the screen. Black. No number. No trace. She stared, waiting for it to speak again. Her hands wouldn’t stay still. She shoved the phone under the desk, squeeze her hands in a knot, pressed her palms flat to the table, but they shook anyway.

The door slid open.

Jake stepped in, eyes ...