The next morning, I set my own alarm. I’m not sure if the previous morning’s late wake-up call had been on purpose or not, but I know I don’t want to be late again. Ezra isn’t concerned about my welfare as long as I’m still breathing, but my stomach would beg to differ. Even now, as I quickly shut my phone’s blaring alarm off and hurry to get dressed, it grumbles at me to move faster. By the time I’ve braided my hair and tugged on some leggings and a sweatshirt, I’m practically starving.
I can hear Ezra already in the dining hall, his trusty sidekick breathing evenly beside him. Whether they hear me coming down the steps or not, they make no move to greet me. I find them exactly where I knew they’d be; Ezra seated at the head of the table, another manila folder in front of him, with Domi
