Rafayel answered on the second ring, his voice a low, warning growl. “This had better be important.”

I turned my head away, my fingers tracing a protective curve over my belly. Rafayel moved to the window, his figure silhouetted against the glass as he spoke into the phone, his words clipped and intense, a stark counterpoint to my silence.

He ended the call and was back at my side in moments. I didn't need to ask, his face was a thundercloud, all that anger held just beneath the surface.

“What's going on? Who called?” I pressed.

“That was my dad,” he said, his jaw clenched. “Turns out someone did slip...