Phoebe's POV
"Demon!" lan's voice crackles through the speaker, and I can practically feel his relief that I'm miles away—otherwise he'd be nursing a solid kick right about now. The comment leaves me speechless.
Since I'm on speaker, Harold catches every word. The car stays silent, but I catch that telltale curve of his lips.
"You asked, Phoebe. Don't shoot the messenger."
My extended silence clearly makes lan squirm.
I clear my throat. "Chill. I can handle it."
lan doesn't buy it for a second. He knows I'm pissed and just putting on a brave face. "Phoebe... listen, I gotta run." Click. The coward hangs up.
After the call dies, Harold speaks up. "Honey, sounds like you run a tight ship at HDA Jackson."
The observation makes me glance around nervously, but his focus stays locked on the road. "I'm the youngest trainer there. Comes with perks."
