POV: Aiden.
The rain hammered against the grimy window of Aiden’s apartment, each drop a tiny explosion in the oppressive quiet. The city lights outside bled into a hazy smear of neon, casting jagged shadows across the peeling wallpaper. Aiden stood in the center of the room, his boots rooted to the warped hardwood, staring at the phone vibrating in his hand like it was a live grenade. He didn’t want to pick up. Not tonight. Not after everything. But he knew he had no choice.
He pressed the phone to his ear, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. “Yeah?”
“You failed, Aiden.” The voice on the other end sliced through the line, cold and precise, like a scalpel carving into flesh. It was deep, distorted just enough to mask any trace of humanity, but the venom was unmistakable. “Asher and Ember are still alive. You had one job—one simple job—and you couldn’t do it.”
Aiden’s grip tightened on the phone, the plastic creaking under his fingers. He started pacing, his boots thudding against
