Ziva was on her knees with her head bowed, and her hands resting on her thighs, every muscle in her body coiled tight. Her sisters stood in the far corner of the room, watching the scene with tense expressions, each of them careful not to draw their father's anger towards themselves.
"Why," Angus thundered, "did you send Lilian after Violet? Did I order you to?"
Ziva looked up, her expression composed even as her heartbeat drummed against her ribs. "I only wanted to make an introduction," she said. "Violet has to know we have an eye on her."
"Oh?" Angus's tone turned to ice. "You have an eye on her?"
At that question, Ziva lowered her eyes again, her lips tightening. "No."
That earned her a mirthless laugh from Angus. It wasn't humor, but mockery, the kind that scraped like broken glass across pride. A flush burned right beneath Ziva's pale skin.
