Eve
"The feeling is less than mutual," I replied coldly, glacing behind him.
He caught on. "You are looking for my brother. He is in the kitchen. He cooked the meal." His supplied lightly, almost conversational in a way that would have disarmed me if I was not as paranoid as a feral cat in a cage of wolves.
"I don't care who cooked it," I said flatly. "I'm not eating anything either of you touched."
Rook didn't look surprised. If anything, he looked... tired. Like he'd expected it.
"We figured as much," he said. Rook's jaw tensed, the barest flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.
"I want you alive," he said simply.
I blinked, thrown for just a second—not by the words, but the way he said them. Not righteous. Not pitiful. Just... matter-of-fact. As if that was all there was to it.
"I can take a bite of the food if that's what you need," he added, nodding toward the tray.
"I need you to understand I'm not that easy to win over," I replied coolly.
