Rowan’s POV

The phone in my hand was cold against my skin, and I could feel Bret beside me, tapping furiously on his laptop. He was trying to trace the call, but I had a feeling Fletcher was smarter than that. The subway train rumbled forward, the low hum of the tracks blending with the background noise of passengers chattering, oblivious to the weight of the conversation I was about to engage in.

"I guess it’s nice to hear from you, Mr. Fletcher—if that’s even your real name," I began, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "But my question is, how on earth did you know we were looking for you?...