The war room had become a crucible of fear and desperation.
The King stood at the head of the long wooden table, his hands gripping the edge so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His phone lay before him, its screen dark, mocking him with its silence. He had lost count of how many times he had dialed Caleb's number—ten, twenty, thirty times. Each attempt had been met with the same hollow result: voicemail.
He tried again.
The phone rang once, twice, three times. Then the familiar click, followed by the automated voice that made his blood boil.
*"The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone."*
The King's jaw tightened until his teeth ached. He ended the call and immediately redialed.
Again.
Again.
Again.
*"The person you are trying to r
