Evander's POV
The moment I told her to sit, I expected obedience.
That was the usual outcome.
Her temper burned fast, but it always flickered out just as quickly — she'd huff, grumble, maybe glare at me through those blind eyes of hers like she could burn me alive if she only had sight.
But this time, the silence stretched.
Too long.
When she finally moved, it wasn't to sit.
Her chin tilted up, lips pressing into a frown so sharp it might as well have been a blade. I'd seen that expression before. It meant she was about to say something I wouldn't like — and she knew it.
"Evander," she began, voice low but shaking slightly. "You can see I'm just waiting for my drink, right?"
My brow arched.
"Or are you going to forbid that too?"
Every sound in the café vanished. The scrape of chairs, the shuffle of paper, the lazy chatter — all gone.
The silence that followed was suffocating. The guards stiffened like stone, waiting for the storm they knew was coming.
