Sandy's POV
My fingers trembled as I gripped the satellite phone, fighting to keep my voice steady despite the terror clawing at my throat.
"Grey," I whispered into the device, hating how small I sounded.
"Sandy." His voice came through crisp and controlled. No panic. No urgency. Just that infuriating calm that made my stomach twist with dread.
I tightened my grip on the phone until my knuckles went white.
"They want the warehouse territory. They're saying they'll release us if you hand it over." I cut straight to the heart of it, watching the leader's eyes dance with twisted amusement as he listened.
Silence stretched across the line like a taut wire. My pulse hammered against my ribs.
"Is this on speaker, Sandy?" Grey's voice dropped to that dangerous low register I knew too well.
I blinked, confusion flooding through me. Why wasn't he asking about our condition? About how much time we had? "Yes?"
"Then listen up, you worthless pieces of garbage."
