Darius's POV
"Uncanny. You need a drink, brother..." Zain offers me the entire bottle of vodka, his own shot glass already raised in a lazy hand.
I slam the bottle down on the table with a resounding thud, fury bubbling under my skin. How could he be so casual? We're back in my office, where everything feels too small, too tight, and I can't stop myself from glancing at the hidden drawer where I keep my gun. The urge to grab it grows stronger with every second he continues to shrug this off. Why didn't Zain vet that woman? She could've been dangerous—physically dangerous. Hell, I'd been stupid enough to think she was a man at first. Fell for her disguise like a fool. Now, the hatred I feel is split between her, Zain, and myself.