Suddenly, Richard's phone buzzed again. He picked it up and almost immediately, his face changed. "Wait—what? Say that again."
Tyler stood straight. "What is it?" He asked impatiently.
But instead of answering him, Richard's grip on the phone tightened as his expression hardened. Even his jaws were clenched as he listened, and Tyler, now fully alert, stepped closer, watching his brother's face for clues.
When he eventually spoke, his voice had dropped to a dangerously low growl. "Where?"
There was a pause, then a response from the other end of the call.
Richard's eyes darkened. "Keep your eyes on her. Don't let her leave there. I'll be there."
He ended the call sharply and exhaled through his nose, his fingers flexing before curling into fists.
Tyler crossed his arms. "Well? Are you going to say something, or do I have to guess?"
Richard grabbed his jacket. "Shantel Hale. She's at the Whitmore estate."
Tyler blinked. "Wait, what? How the hell did she—?"
