It took a moment before his man finally replied, and when the message came through, it was brief yet telling.
"No, sir. She hasn't been anywhere else."
Tryson's gaze darkened instantly upon reading the text. His fingers clenched around his phone, his jaw tightening in suppressed fury.
A cold, dangerous glint flickered in his eyes as he exhaled slowly, resisting the overwhelming urge to storm up to Arthur and force him to reveal Angel's whereabouts.
But just as the impulse took hold, another thought slid into his mind—a sharper, more strategic approach.
Without a word, still masked and unreadable, Tryson slipped a hand into his pocket.
His movements were calculated, his posture tense but controlled.
As he stepped out of the room, he raised his phone to his ear, ensuring his voice remained steady over the distant thrum of music and laughter that poured in from the ongoing party. He wouldn't allow the noise to interfere with what came next.
