Brandon's POV
Seth drove me to my meeting with Zara Montclair in near silence. The engine hummed softly beneath us, and the late afternoon sun streaked gold across the windshield. City traffic crawled in long, impatient lines, horns bleating faintly in the distance like restless animals. Normally, I loved this part of the city—the rush, the movement, the feeling that everyone was chasing something. Today, it felt suffocating.
My phone rested in my lap, face up, screen dark. I stared at it as if I could will it to light up. Ever since the blackmailer had surfaced, my life had become measured in vibrations and notifications. Every silence felt like a loaded gun. Every ping felt like a trigger.
