Don didn't answer immediately.
The voicemail had already ended, yet Ash's unsteady breathing still lingered faintly inside his head beneath the low hum of the helicopter engines.
Outside the reinforced windows, Santos City continued passing beneath them in massive stretches of darkness broken only by fire, emergency lights and scattered gunfire flashing between ruined streets.
The city looked worse from above now.
More dead.
Entire intersections had become blackened piles of wreckage while smoke drifted between buildings thick enough to partially swallow entire districts beneath the night sky.
Every now and then, isolated tracer fire still streaked upward somewhere below before disappearing again beneath the shadows.
Don leaned his head slightly back against the seat while weighing the situation carefully.
Ashlynn was useful.
More than useful.
Reliable.
And despite her personality, she had handled herself well repeatedly under pressure.
