Roman failed.

The late-afternoon light slanted through the tall windows of Zane’s office, striping the polished desk with gold and shadow. He sat in his leather chair, sleeves rolled back, pen poised above a column of numbers.

Contracts that were dry, necessary, predictable. He liked predictable.

The phone on the corner of his desk buzzed, the vibration sharp against the wood. He almost ignored it, until he saw the name flashing on the screen.

Roman Velez.

His hand froze mid-note, pen tip bleeding a small p