KELLAN’S POV
The next morning, I sat on the edge of Alex's couch, my phone clutched in the firm grasp of my hand as if the strength of the hold could balance my thoughts spiraling out of order. The room, apart from the soft light coming from the table lamp, was shrouded in darkness. The creeping shadows at each corner were a reflection of unease crawling in my chest.
What was left now was the riskiest of them all, and frankly speaking, I couldn't afford to waste more time. So I dialed the number that Brian had sent me - London head of Security - a man who, per Brian, had ties in with the Brooke family and who would deal in high stake situations.
It rang a couple of times until I heard this firm, deep voice respond, "This is Gerald Mitchell.”