Rachel’s POV
I called the number back immediately.
It rang twice and cut off.
I frowned and tried again.
Nothing.
No voicemail. No ringing tone. Just dead air sitting against my ear like the line itself no longer existed.
A disposable number.
Of course it was, the person used a burner phone. I would be surprised if the call was traceable.
I stared at the message on my screen again, reading it a third time even though the words hadn’t changed.
You want to know who tried to kill you. I have the answer. Come alone.
My pulse was already beginning to speed up.
Every instinct I had told me it was dangerous.
But another part of me, the exhausted, angry part that had spent two years trying to untangle this mess needed to know.
I needed answers badly enough to take risks for them.
I
