Their murmured voices drifted through the door—calm, controlled, and undeniably professional. They weren’t petty criminals, but seemed trained. Evan’s breath shuddered in his chest as Calder mouthed, “See?” But see what? That he was being hunted? Or that Calder’s frantic warnings weren’t the delusions Evan had feared?
One of the men whispered, “Not yet. Wait until he leaves. Easier to take him.” Evan’s stomach knotted. Take him? Why did they want him? The idea that they were waiting for his exit hit him harder than any threat. Someone knew his routines intimately.