POV: Ava
The click of the line was the only thing standing between me and a scream. Mark was frozen, his fingers curled into claws, his eyes wide with a sudden, twitching uncertainty. He had heard me. He had heard the name "The Ghost." He had heard the command to "Send everyone."
But the silence that followed was worse than any noise. The voice on the other end hadn't been the warm, rough baritone I had prayed for. It hadn't been Leo.
"Hello?" I whispered, my hand white-knuckled around the yellowed plastic of the receiver. "Leo? Is that you?"
A laugh came through the line. It wasn't a hearty laugh. It was a dry, papery sound, like dead leaves skittering over a tombstone.
"Not quite, little bird," the voice said. It was silk over gravel smooth, expensive, and terrifyingly calm.
My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. I knew that voice. I had heard it in the motel parking lot while I was huddled in the snow. It was Vitelli.
