Roman lingered at the base of the staircase just outside the mansion, the early morning air cool against his skin.
The stone steps still held a trace of last night's chill, seeping faintly through the soles of his shoes as he paced.
His phone was pressed to his ear again. Ringing. Always ringing, but no one answered. He ended the call with a sharp tap and immediately dialed again, his thumb moving almost on instinct now.
It had to be the tenth time, maybe more. He had lost count somewhere between urgency and frustration.
A hand dragged through his hair, his fingers catching slightly as he exhaled through his nose. His thoughts refused to line up, spinning too fast, colliding over and over.
Where are you, Estelle? The question pulsed through him, relentless.
Then, slowly, his pacing stilled. He lowered the phone, his gaze narrowing as a different thought began to take shape.
