(Raiden’s POV)
The silence in my office is suffocating.
A low hum from the fluorescent light overhead is the only sound, but it grates on me like nails on a chalkboard.
I’ve read the same line on this report five times now, and I still don’t know what it says.
Siena.
Her words won’t stop playing in my head, over and over, like a broken record: My father died while you were ignoring my calls.
I lean back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my face. The leather creaks under me, the sound sharp in the quiet room. I can’t get the look on her face out of my mind. That mix of anger and pain, the way her voice trembled when she said seventeen calls.
Seventeen.
I reach for my phone and scroll through my call history, though I know I won’t find anything there.
