Page 243 of Vameer

Nothing. No ringing. No nothing.

I try another. Then another.

Same result.

Hands starting to shake, I go back to my voicemail and delete the message.

I reach for the uncapped vodka.

No other messages.

No working phones.

Something had to have happened to the comms. Someone would’ve called when shit went loud. And even if every man I sent died, their phones would still ring in their pockets.

For half a second, I debate trying to call King Tosa.

I doubt my dream of Vameer and Tosa miraculously killing each other happened, so calling him would be an easy answer to my question of which one survived.

Except…

I take another drink.

My stomach starts to protest at the alcohol, but my nerves don’t care.

If Tosa is the one who lived, he’ll expect me to uphold my end of the bargain. Which, of course, I cannot.

If it’s Vameer…

I take another large swallow.

King Tosa felt like an ace up my sleeve. But I should’ve known he’d turn out to be just another crazy Alt.

With hindsight, I can admit that going after Vameer was the wrong call. But had I gotten him…

I think about all those bodies sliced in half and set the vodka down.

Vameer doesn’t know my involvement. He’s been gone, somewhere, for a century. His mate is a nobody, and his only friend is his brother.

Except he’s already acting chummy with that fucking reporter.

And I don’t care how many times she claims she’s not connected to the Vadas vampires. She’s a wild card that has to go.

One more call. Then I’ll turn my phone back off.

I put my phone to my ear as it starts ringing.

My chest tightens as it keeps ringing, and I welcome the anger.

While my phone continues to ring, I grit my teeth and move to the windows along the back of the house. The moon reflects off the ocean, flickering across the waves as they roll toward shore.

Maybe it’s time to retire. I’ll wrap up this current cluster, then I can move here full-time. Get my hands on some hot piece and move her in with me.

The ringing stops, and the voicemail clicks on.

“Nault, answer your fucking phone, you son of a bitch. I need intel. The site went dark, and I have no contact. Haystack was your operation. No amount of ignoring me will change that.” Something shimmers over the water, and I lean closer to the window. “I’m not gonna die for this.” I hang up and turn my phone off as I try to make out what I’m seeing.

Is that a boat light?