The moment his phone buzzed, Trevor snatched it off the table like a man who had just received a life-or-death transmission from the president.
His hand moved so quickly, Roman—who sat quietly across from him—barely caught the motion. Trevor's eyes darted to the screen, and when he saw the name that popped up, the tight coil of anxiety in his chest loosened just a bit.
"Freya," he breathed, exhaling a sigh that was soft, almost reverent, like a man praying for calm in the middle of a storm and getting an answer.
His fingers danced across the screen with practiced ease, opening the message. A grin flickered across his lips as his eyes scanned the contents, lighting up with a mix of satisfaction and urgency.
