Noah's POV
"Nathaniel Aldridge speaking."
The voice on the phone is smooth. Unbothered.
My throat closes. My heart stops, and my lungs forget how to work. My whole body goes stiff, fingers locking around the phone like it's the only thing tethering me to the ground.
That voice.
I've only ever heard it once before, muffled through the static of a livestream feed, distorted by emotion and distance—but I remember it like a brand on the inside of my skull. The voice that ordered Logan's father killed. The voice that smiled through Martin Whittaker's death sentence. The voice of the man who made sure Rowan's sword would cut through bone.
And now it's curling in my ear like cigarette smoke.
"Is this Nate?" I ask, voice thin.
There's a beat of silence. Just long enough for my pulse to pick up speed again. Then—
"Nate," he repeats, as if trying the name on for size. "No one's called me that in a long time. Who is this?"
