Chapter 133: The Call
"Sweetheart," Nat’s deep voice boomed off the speakers. "Did you miss me?"
"No," April gave a definite answer that immediately stabbed him right in the chest.
Nat chuckled deeply on the other end, the sound low and raspy, as if he were biting his lip in that exact moment to keep himself from laughing out loud. "Cruel as always, sweetheart. You didn’t even hesitate."
"Why did you call?" she asked, her voice dropping into its usual flat, unbothered tone.
"Well, I’m just cleaning up some trash right now, and I thought of you," he murmured.
Over the line, April could hear the faint, distinct sound of feet shuffling and a bit of heavy lifting. Yeah, cleaning the trash indeed. "A man gets lonely doing manual labor, you know."
"For the record, I really didn’t miss you," April replied, staring deadpan at the car’s ceiling. "I thoroughly enjoyed the peace without you."
"Awn, don’t say that. It makes my heart bleed," he cooed, his tone dripping with a dangerous, playful mockery but it only made her feel goosebumps crawl up her skin.
April had a completely blank look in her eyes that clearly said she wasn’t buying his bad-boy lineup for a single second. "Do you want something from me? A reading perhaps? If you want to know the market stats for your next digital heist, just state it."
"Well, not really. I just want to talk to you. Let’s chat."
April dropped the phone from her ear, and she was this close to tapping on the red disconnect button. She thought longingly of the colorful digital boxes waiting for her on Winecraft, her game spirit itching to review her stone walls.
But then she paused. She realized with a dull sense of dread that if she actually cut the call, this absolute mad dog would probably take it as an invitation to break into her room later just to make a chaotic mess of things.
Humoring him on the phone was a necessary preventative defense strategy.
With a heavy, tired sigh, she rested the phone against her ear and let him talk.
"Okay, Mr. Collins, you wanna chat? Let’s chat."
Surprisingly, as the car navigated the quiet streets back to the estate, the Mafia lord actually had a few interesting things to say.
He didn’t just ramble; he began detailing the shifting movements of the city’s underground networks, explaining how several black-market information brokers were suddenly liquidating their data loops out of nowhere—unwittingly echoing the larger moves Xavier and the Greels were making.
For April, it was free, highly valuable information about how the dark net was reacting to the subtle ripples they were causing.
When the transport finally pulled into the courtyard, Samuel opened her door, eyeing the active call on her screen with a look of profound, silent sympathy.
April marched right into the dining hall, placing her phone flat on the table and switching it to loudspeaker while the maids quickly brought out her meal.
She smoothly cut into her grilled chicken, listening to Nat’s deep voice echo through the grand space. Every now and then, he would throw out a sharp, witty remark about a corrupt tech mogul he had crossed paths with and also beat the crap out of, and April found herself chiming in, a rare, genuine spark of engagement showing in her responses.
It wasn’t half bad talking to him, actually. He was chaotic and always so full of it, but he was also full of information she could use.
A few yards away in the open living room, Xavier was sitting on the leather sofa, a glass of bourbon in his hand.
He was supposed to be reviewing the safehouse blueprints that were under way, but his dark eyes kept lifting, tracking the loudspeaker conversation with a sharp, intensely focused glare.
He didn’t say a word, but his grip on his glass was exceptionally tight as he listened to the casual familiarity between the seer and the city’s most dangerous psychopath.
Once she finished her meal, April picked up the phone, cradling a still-sleeping Lily in her other arm as she began walking up the grand staircase.
She wondered if the energy in that biscuit was so much that the cat refused to wake up properly since then. It didn’t even try to eat when it smelled the milk the maids had poured for her.
Maybe tomorrow, April thought, her finger stroking its fur. Then she kept it down on a safe corner of her bed and stretched her body, the phone still pressed to her ear.
"I’m going to cut the call now," she stated.
"Why?" Nat complained instantly.
"It is none of your business."
"Are you about to get into the shower?"
April paused dead in her tracks right in the middle of her bedroom. She slowly looked around the large, luxury space, her eyes tracking the windows, the closet, and the shadows behind her curtains. "You didn’t... do anything psychotic in my room while I was away... did you?"
"And when exactly would I have had the time to do that?" Nat asked smoothly, laughing softly. April dryly noted that he didn’t actually deny doing it—he just questioned the timeline so there was a high possibility that he might have the intentions of doing so in the future.
I am taking a severe mental note to permanently lock him out of my room from now on, she thought solemnly. "Bye, Mr. Collins."
"Alright, I’ll let you go," he said.
A heavy, sudden silence followed over the line. April waited for the line to go dead, but the call timer kept ticking.
She didn’t know if he had forgotten to press the button, but through the speaker, she could distinctly hear the steady, rhythmic sound of his deep breathing against the microphone.
She blinked. "Um... do you have anything else to say?"
"No," Nat murmured, his voice dropping into an unusually quiet, heavy resonance. "But if you have anything else to say to me... I’m all ears."
It was blindingly obvious that the mad dog didn’t want to cut the call at all. It was a bizarre, almost stubborn reluctance to hang up. But that was too bad for him, because April had a steaming bath to take and thousands of Winecraft boxes to tap.
Without a single shred of hesitation, she moved her thumb and firmly pressed the red button, cutting the line completely.
Turning around, she walked toward the bathroom, letting out a satisfied breath. The house was finally her sanctuary again.