Chapter Twenty-ThreeBy the time I was done, it was already half-past two in the morning. I was bone-deep weary, my emotions were a hot mess, and I still needed to talk to Zantry, apologize for being an ass as well.
The apartment was quiet when I walked in, my clothes damp and stinky, watch cap stuffed in my pocket, my mood foul. Zantry was sprawled on the sofa, watching some car chase on TV. All the lights were off, save for the flickering lights from the screen.
I threw the keys on the counter, tried to read Zantry's mood. The bond was quiet, not a peep leaking through. He took in my clothes, lingered on my face, at my blank expression. His posture didn't change, but there was a strain around his eyes and lips that spoke of concern.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Where's Mwara?”
“Asleep,” he said,
