Chapter 27 The Call
I stared at the dark gap beneath the bed, dread pooling in my stomach as the phone buzzed against my palm again.
It was a vibrating warning that spurred me into motion.
Dropping to my knees on the cold Persian rug, I gripped the knife tight in my right hand and lowered my head to look.
There was no monster waiting to grab me, nor an assassin hiding in the shadows.
There was just a cheap, plastic burner phone sitting in the exact centre of the dusty floorboards.
I recognised it instantly as the same black device I had found in the pantry wall two days ago, the one that had vanished.
My stomach turned over at the realisation that the spy hadn't just watched me; he had physically crawled into my room while I was sleeping or working to place this here like a treat for a dog.
I reached out and grabbed it, the plastic feeling greasy in my hand. As soon as I pulled it out, it rang, the shrill sound echoing loudly in the quiet room.
I jumped, nearly dropping it, and stared at the screen, which flashed Unknown Caller.
I knew I shouldn't answer it, that I should smash it or flush it down the toilet, but curiosity and fear held me frozen.
If I didn't answer, I wouldn't know what they wanted, and if I didn't know that, I couldn't stop them.
I pressed the green button and held the phone to my ear. "Who is this?"
"You found it."
The voice was digital, metallic, and warped, run through a synthesiser to strip away any trace of gender or humanity.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"Money? Information? I don't have anything."
"I don't want anything from you, Lilith. I just want you to watch."
"Watch what?"
"The fire."
My blood ran cold. "What fire?"
"The little girl," the voice droned. "She sleeps very soundly. It would be a shame if she didn't wake up when the smoke starts."
Jasmine. The name hit me like a physical blow. The threat wasn't about me; it had never been about me.
I was just a distraction to keep eyes away from the real target.
"If you touch her," I shouted into the receiver, "I will kill you!"
"Tick tock, Lilith."
The line went dead. I scrambled to my feet, abandoning all caution. I didn't care about the camera, the rules, or the guards anymore. I just had to get to the nursery.
I turned toward the door just as it exploded inward with a deafening crash.
A heavy boot slammed into the wood near the handle, splintering the frame and sending the door crashing against the wall.
Dante burst into the room, looking wild and terrifying.
His chest heaved, and his gun was drawn and raised, scanning the room in a split second before his eyes landed on the open closet door.
He moved past me, shoving me aside with his free hand so hard I stumbled back against the bed.
"Clear!" he shouted to no one, aiming the gun into the darkness of the wardrobe.
"Dante!" I screamed, ignoring the gun. "He's not here!"
He ignored me, sweeping the closet and ripping the clothes down, looking for a man who wasn't there.
"Where is he?" Dante demanded, spinning on me with furious confusion.
"It doesn't matter!" I threw the burner phone at his chest, and he caught it instinctively with his free hand.
"Jasmine," I choked out, the air leaving my lungs. "He said smoke. He said fire."
Dante froze. The rage on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a look of absolute, hollow horror. "What?"
"The phone," I gasped, pointing at the device in his hand. "He just called. He said she sleeps soundly. He said... the smoke."
Dante didn't ask questions or demand proof. He dropped the phone and turned, sprinting out of the room with a speed that blurred.
I ran after him, tearing down the hallway. It was only twenty feet to the nursery door, but it felt like miles as the smell hit us, not woodsmoke, but something chemical and sharp, like burning plastic.
Dante hit the nursery door with his shoulder, and it flew open.
The room was dark, but a thick, grey haze was already curling along the ceiling, pouring from the vent in the corner.
"Jasmine!" Dante roared, diving toward the bed.
I ran to the window, fumbling with the latch and trying to get it open to let the air in, but my hands were shaking too hard.
Behind me, I heard Dante cough and the rustle of sheets as he scooped her up.
"I've got her," he choked out. "I've got her."
He emerged from the smoke holding Jasmine tight in his arms.
She was limp, her head lolling terrifyingly against his shoulder.
"She's not waking up," he said, his voice breaking.
"Why isn't she waking up?"
I ran to them and touched her face. Her skin was warm, but she was deeply unconscious.
"Get her out," I urged, pushing him toward the door. "Get her out of the smoke."
We ran into the hallway, where the air was clearer. Dante lay her down on the carpet and put his ear to her chest, his face pale beneath the tan.
"She's breathing," he whispered, though he sounded unsure. "But it's shallow."
He looked up at me, his eyes wild with a mixture of relief and fury. "Gas," he said.
"They pumped something into the vents."
He picked her up again, standing tall and holding his daughter against his chest like a shield.
"We need to move. This floor isn't safe. The house isn't safe."
He looked at me, his gaze hard and uncompromising.
"Stay close to me," he ordered. "If you fall behind, I will leave you."
I didn't know if he meant it, and I didn't care. I grabbed the back of his shirt, anchoring myself to him.
"Go," I said.
We ran toward the stairs, leaving the smoke and the silence behind us.