(Julia POV)
I ram the break room door open, Luke tailing behind me, and I slam it shut, bang rattling the frame like a gunshot. My coffee mug smacks at the counter, too damn hard, brown sludge slopping over the rim. The sharp, sour stink fills the air, but I am past caring. My hands tremble, Xavier's voice still clawing my skull, "Julia Hart. Andrew's right hand." Luke is pacing behind me, yanking his tie like it is a noose.
"He has got us in his crosshairs," I say, whipping around. My words slice through the coffee machine's drone, edged and hot.
Luke freezes mid-stride, his hands falling limp. "He knows we are Andrew's."
I brace against the counter, my arms locked tight. "And he is eating it up, shoving it in our faces."
"We are still Andrew's," he says, stepping in close. His eyes
