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“How did you know to come looking in here?” he asks, staring down at the ground as he continues to pace.

“Someone left the key to this unit inside my work desk,” I say, a half-truth. He stops pacing, turning his head toward me.

“A key? You expect me to believe that’s it?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. He’s skeptical, I can tell. Capricorns and their trust issues, I swear.

“Yup,” I say, popping the P.

He stares at me a moment longer before he begins pacing again. This time, he paces all the way to the front of the storage unit. He stops and stands in the doorway, looking out as he shoves one hand into his pocket. My eye catches on something in the grass. That’s funny. It looks like a piece of bright green … oh, shit.

I suck in a breath and then hold it, not wanting to draw attention to the paper. Callum narrows his eyes at me and then shifts his attention to the sticky note in the grass. After a few seconds, he moves toward the note. Double shit.

His arm slips free from my grasp, and he reaches the note in record time. Plucking it from the ground, he brings it closer to read it as I reach around his large frame for it. He spins around to face me, lifting it over his head where he knows damn well I can’t reach it. I sure as hell make a show of trying, jumping up and down with my hand raised toward it.

“Give me that right now, Callum,” I say sternly. He’s so much bigger than me, and I don’t even come close to reaching it. That sure as shit doesn’t stop me, though.

“Damnit. Give it to me. It’s mine,” I say again, this time a bit more whiny than intended.

Deciding to give up while I formulate a plan, I drop to the ground and cross my arms over my chest. I huff out a sigh, staring down at the grass in frustration. While searching my mind for a way to get the damn thing back, I hear a faint chuckle from Callum. My head snaps up toward the sound. Except, when my gaze lands on his face, he’s wearing his usual brand of a broody scowl. Did I make it up, then? My eyes narrow in frustration.

“Finders, keepers,” he snarks. His expression remains serious, but I swear I see the faintest tick at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s not fair. I had it first,” I say, outing myself and sounding like a child.

“Is that so?” he asks. “Didn’t you just finish telling me that all you found in your desk was a key?”

His jaw flexes, and he looks angry. It’s almost like he’s upset by my dishonesty. I huff out another exasperated sigh and look off to the side. As I consider my options, an idea finally occurs to me. I’m not sure that it will work, but that sure won’t stop me from trying.

In an instant, I double over and grab my head in my hands. I scream out in agony, pretending to be in pain. Callum takes the bait, dropping the note and moving toward me. He kneels beside me, extending a hand. I dart around him and grab the note, pocketing it immediately.

Got ya, sucker.

I glare up at him smugly, standing my ground. There’s not a hint of amusement on his face.

“Aw, Cal. It almost seems like you were worried for me. You’d better watch it. Your mask is slipping, sunshine,” I say, sweetly. I’m pretty sure I see one of his eyelids twitch in annoyance.

“What’s on the note, Lydia?” he presses, his tone impatient.

“What’s it to you?” I ask, arching a brow.

“You fucking passed out, Lydia. This is serious. Give me the goddamn note, now.”

I stare up at him in awe. He’s angry, sure. But there’s something else. He’s afraid. He’s afraid for me. The odd emotion is enough to have me reaching into my pocket to take out the sticky note and hand it to him. He stares down at my outstretched hand for several seconds as if considering whether this is another trick. He sighs, running a hand down his face. When his gaze finally lifts to mine, he presses his lips into a thin line and finally takes the note from me. I watch in anticipation as he reads it, flipping it over to read the back.

“Any clue who left this for you?” he asks, that worried expression returning.

“Nope,” I say.

“How do you feel?” he asks. The question is so out of left field that all I can do is stare at him. I stare for so long that he questions me a second time.

“Lydia? Are you okay?” he asks, his golden eyes searching mine.

“I-I feel fine?” I say, more in question. “Yes. I’m fine. Why? What do you think it means?”

“I-I’m not entirely sure. I have a feeling it has something to do with fucking Sonus, though,” he says, handing the note back to me. I pocket it.

“S, as in Sonus?” I ask.

“Maybe,” he says. “I don’t know. Sabel?”