Val's P.O.V

The command center energy was humming. Pizza boxes were stacked like tactical fortifications, empty smoothie glasses stood sentinel, and four phones glowed with the intensity of our focus. I can't even undermine the fact that we eat pizza most of the time. We were a well-oiled machine, dissecting Ronan’s digital footprint with a cold fury. Then, Juliette’s phone buzzed with a distinct, melodic tone she usually reserved for her astrology app alerts.

She glanced at it, and ...