Apollo's eyes snapped to Zane, a flash of indignant heat momentarily cutting through the fog of his exhaustion. He felt the sting of being talked down to, especially while his lungs felt like they were filled with glass and his muscles screamed in protest.
"Nobody told me a fucking thing!" Apollo snapped, his voice echoing sharply against the ruined walls of the plaza. "I was standing in the middle of a goddamn massacre with a Forbidden Apostle breathing down my neck, and I made the same goddamn decision anyone else in that position would have made!"
Zane didn't flinch at the outburst. He didn't even blink.
His gaze remained fixed on Rex, his posture rigid, his eyes unyielding as flint. He was a man who lived in the nuances of combat and command, and he had seen the subtle shift in the battlefield's geometry.
"I wasn't talking to you, Apollo," Zane said, his voice low and steady, cutting through Apollo's frustration.
He shifted his focus entirely to Rex. "I meant him..."
