Tyler's POV.
I stared at the phone screen again.
Call Ended.
Eric...nothing. Anne? Her number had been switched off since last night. I'd called over and over again, left voice notes, even tried texting like a lunatic. No reply. Just dead air.
"What the fuck is wrong with these two?" I hissed, tossing the phone onto the bed. It bounced off the sheets and landed with a soft thud on the floor, but I didn't care. Let it stay there. Let it rot.
I turned to the tuxedo on me. Crisp. Sharp. Intimidatingly formal. I was supposed to wear that today. For Han. For whatever the hell we were doing.
Outing? Meeting? I didn't even know. Anne had barely explained a damn thing. Just that I should get ready and look decent. I did. But what if I show up and it's not a meet-and-greet, but some shady underground affair where people get shot and dragged away? What if I'm caught off guard and do something stupid and embarrass them all?
