Koa's POV
"Fuck!" I spat, pacing a groove into the floor of Zack's living room.
"Calm down," he said casually, lifting his glass like nothing in the world could bother him.
I whipped around, heat rising in my chest. "How the fuck am I supposed to calm down? She's playing with me. She almost got me caught—do you not get that?"
Zack didn't answer, didn't argue. He just poured another glass and held it out. Typical. His way of telling me to shut up without actually saying it.
I snatched it from his hand, glaring, and downed it slow. The liquor burned my throat, but I forced myself to take it steady, not coughing, not choking. That was our trick—our discipline. We'd trained ourselves to drink fire like it was water, to keep our control even when our blood was boiling. Usually it worked. Usually it cooled the edge.
Not tonight.
