Trevor Phillips Novels & Stories

Not happening. There’s a phone taped to the top of the box, and the second my fingers brush against it, it rings. I already know who it is. I answer. “Liam, my boy,” Trevor’s voice slithers through the line, smug and satisfied. I don’t say anything. “I know your little dog of a brother spoke to Tamrin,” he continues, his tone light like we’re old friends catching up. “You can’t do that, my boy. You’re breaking the rules.”