Page 76 of Toxic Attraction
"It's just spam—"
"Valerie." His voice goes cold. "Answer it."
Terror grips me because I know who it is.
Patrick.
I pull out my phone. Seven missed calls.
"Spam." The lie falls out. "I'll block it."
Lev's eyes narrow. "Spam doesn't call seven times. Who is it?"
"Old job. They keep trying—"
My phone buzzes again.
Lev doesn't grab it. Just watches my face. "We're leaving."
The drive home is silent. Tense.
When we arrive, he walks me to my room.
"Sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."
Then he's gone.
I pull out the burner.
Fifteen missed calls. Ten texts.
24 hours to send updated intel or Ethan loses a finger.
What do I do?
Chapter twelve
Lev
She checks her phone seventeen times during the drive home from Apex, and I count every single one.
Not obvious about it—quick glances when she thinks I'm focused on Mikhail's report, subtle shifts to see the screen. But I notice everything about Valerie Novak now.
And right now? She's scared of that fucking phone.
We arrive at the estate past 2 AM. She's exhausted, mumbles something about checking on Mila before bed. I let her go, watch her disappear up the stairs, then head to my office.
Pull up her phone records—both devices. The smartphone shows normal patterns. Nothing suspicious.
The burner is different.
Fifteen incoming calls in the past seventy-two hours. All from that same untraceable number Mikhail identified weeks ago. The one that routes through multiple proxies, encrypted to hell, connected to whoever the fuck is running her.
She hasn't answered any of them.
That should reassure me. Should prove she's done with whoever sent her here, whoever threatened her family into this situation.
Instead, it makes my jaw clench hard enough that my teeth ache.
