Chapter Eighty-One
Venessa POV
The leather interior of Khalid’s SUV usually felt like a sanctuary, a soundproof bubble where the chaos of the outside world couldn't touch me. Today, however, it felt like a rolling interrogation room. The scent of expensive leather and Khalid’s familiar, grounding cologne did little to soothe the static electricity buzzing under my skin.
Beside me, Khalid was a statue carved from obsidian. One of his large hands was clamped over mine, resting on the center console, his grip so tight my fingers were slightly numb. His other hand held his phone to his ear. He hadn't stopped barking orders since we left the shattered remains of my office building's archive room.
"I don't care about the legalities of the post office's privacy policies, Marcus," Khalid growl
