The red alert light on the secure tablet continued to pulse, casting a sharp, crimson glow across the surface of the mahogany desk. Asher—Asher Reed, the man who held the entire weight of this city's underground on his shoulders—didn't hesitate. He reached out and snatched the device from the guard's trembling hand.
His features were set in stone as his thumb tapped the screen to play the audio file. The heavy static from the high-speed coastal winds hummed through the speakers for a brief second, and then, a voice broke through.
It wasn't Boris.
It was a completely unfamiliar voice—smooth, entirely detached, and chillingly polite.
