“Ego,” I warn as I lean in over the table. “Drop it.”
“Or what?” she purrs, leaning in too, undaunted. “You’ll glare me to death? Newsflash, handsome, that smolder only works on one person around here, and he’s not me.”
I huff a laugh despite myself, rubbing a hand over my face. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re obvious,” she fires back, flicking a finger against my forearm. “Sitting there all doom and gloom, pining over Mr. Tall, Pale, and Traumatized—”
“Enough!” I groan, pleading with my eyes, and she finally settles back into her chair with a dramatic eyeroll and gestures for me to take the reins.
Cato heaves a resigned sigh from beside me. He has plenty more to say on the matter, but he stays blessedly silent for once.
Everyone at the table either stares uncomfortably at the wall or watches with obvious interest.
Piper sits beside Ego. She has a photographic memory, and has every building in the city memorized, down to the floor plans and who occupies each space. She can place the important players like chess pieces and has dirt on half of them. Jayce lounges on the other side of Cato, all brawn with little patience for strategy, and Sakane perches beyond him.
I blow out a heavy breath and drag my palm over my hair, my cheeks burning from the attention. Determined to get this train back on the tracks, I clear my throat and glance around the table.
“Leif stopped by this morning to ask for our help. Nothing major,” I hurry to add as amusement turns to concern. “They’ve spent the past few days doing recon and have gathered more details about these meetings. It’s definitely the HighCommanders, and from the information they’ve collected, at least two of them are traveling into the city. Leif also has reason to believe one might already be living in Atlanta.”
“Right under our fucking noses?” Cato demands.
I nod, lips pulling tight. “If they’re here, it’s likely in City Center. Probably in one of the high-rises.”
“What does Leif want us to do?” Ego asks.
“For now, just keep watch. Scout the central district, talk to our contacts, and be on the lookout for anything unusual. Large platoons, heightened security around buildings, that sort of thing.”
“Well, that’s safe enough for the moment, I suppose,” Ego mutters, before leaning over the table to sketch a rough map. “We should divide into groups and split the district into quadrants…”
I sit back, grateful to let her take the lead. Strategy is her strength, and right now my thoughts are too scattered to form a coherent plan. The conversation flows around me as they hash out specifics, and I absorb everything in silence.
The door swings open, and I expect Talia with a pot of coffee for the group.
What I find instead is Xeni.
Talia is there too, grinning and staring at him adoringly as they stumble into the room together.
When the initial shock of seeing him out of his room fades, my gaze drops lower, and I realize he’s wearing a t-shirt and little else. He carries a bottle of rum by its neck, and when he lifts it to his lips, the shirt rides up to reveal satiny, powder-blue panties hugging the swell of his groin.
I see red.
“Xenesis! What the fuck?!” I surge to my feet so fast the chair scrapes back with a screech and nearly falls.
A slow smile forms around the bottle’s rim as he takes a long swig, his eye glassy and cheeks flushed. Rum glistens on his lips as I storm over and tug at the hem, trying to yank it down and preserve whatever shred of modesty he has left. Droplets of rum roll down the bottle’s neck and onto the fabric of his shirt.
“What’s the matter, darling?” he slurs, that lazy grin spreading wider.
He sways, and he’s utterly unbothered by my frantic effort to keep him covered. His eye is half-lidded as he watches me fuss.
“Don’t you like the view?” he taunts, liquor making his voice thick.
I yank the bottle away and slam it onto the table before whirling on Talia.
“Why is he out?”
She laughs with a carefree shrug but doesn’t answer.
“What did you do to her?” I demand as I turn back to Xeni.
