LEIGH
The dining table was set, bowls lined up straight, bread on the side, soup still hot. I untied my apron and told myself I was done for the night.
Then Varek opened his mouth.
"Yo." He snapped his fingers without even looking at me, boots crossed up on the table edge like he'd bought the furniture personally, his Iron Hollow cut hanging open over a stained white tee, gold chain catching the overhead light. "Bring it over here. You don't actually think we're walking all the way to that table, do you, sweetheart?"
The word sweetheart landed like a slap with a smile behind it.
Grave was leaning back in his chair beside him, scrolling his phone one-handed, big arms relaxed, not even sparing me a glance. "You heard him. Move."
I looked at both of them for a second. Two full seconds.
