Miguel caught that reference sharply. Navarro's words had sent his provocative side into a dangerous, revived coma, but regardless of the bitterness, it was the obvious truth.
He was changing, something was shifting deep in the bedrock of his soul and Miguel could feel the cold nervousness of that transformation enwrap him like a second skin, tight and suffocating.
"Are you done?" Miguel asked, his voice a flat line, refusing to turn his gaze. Navarro let out a weary, rattling sigh as he leaned back, studying Miguel's rigid profile. The man looked far too invested in the distance, his mind clearly untethered from the heavy, concerning conversation Navarro was trying to anchor.
