Suddenly the phone's signal bars jumped and the phone pinged to life. Dings, chings, and twangs signaled notifications that had piled up. He clicked one randomly, a text from someone named Bree.
Bree: Where the duck are you? Answer your damn phone!
Duck?
Another text came in:
Bree: Fine. Just be a botch. I'm sick of this shot. If you ever get back from your crazy weekend maybe you can call me back.
Then came another:
Bree: Bitch* I hate this ducking autocorrect
Ah. Ducking. Fucking. Of course.
The driver cleared his throat, eyes darting to Bren and the phone in his hand. "Were you able to contact The Guild?"
Bren suppressed an eye roll and tossed Trista's phone aside for his own. He snapped the text out in a moment. "Mission complete. Two casualties."