Kristoff’s POV“Pick the damn phone, you bastard.”I paced the length of the room, phone pressed hard to my ear like I could force it to comply through sheer pressure. The marble floor beneath my feet was cold, slick, mocking me with its calm while my insides burned.Ring.Ring.Ring.I stopped pacing and glared at the screen, jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached. My reflection stared back at me from the dark glass wall…eyes sharp, face drawn, anger simmering just beneath the surface.“Pick up,” I snarled. “Pick up.”As if I’d jinxed it, the call connected.“Hello?” came the cautious voice on the other end.I didn’t bother with pleasantries.“I need a new identity,” I snapped. “Passport. Name. History. Everything. I want out of this city.”A pause.Then a sigh.“Kris,” the man said carefully, “I’m not in that business anymore.”My grip tightened around the phone.“What do you mean you’re not in the business?” I demanded. “You were in it three months ago.”“I got out,” he replied. “Cle
Last Updated : 2026-01-10 Read more