I snort but say nothing. His jealousy of the special ops is showing, and anyone, his goons included, can see it.
“You have something to say, sodomite?” His tone hardens, and my temper flares.
Still, I regain my control as I say, “Oh, nothing. I was thinking maybe this animosity stems from the fact that you applied to the special ops and were rejected twice in a row.”
“You damn—” He reaches out to me, but I duck and pretend that the food has all of my focus.
One of his goons brings him back down, whispering something about how we’re being watched.
I smile at Matvey sweetly even as he turns a deep shade of red that’s likely to explode any second.
“They’re going back to their camp soon,” goon number three says, trying to change the subject. “Good riddance.”
My body goes still.
They’re
