The door bangs open and Valen strides in, face dark, movements sharp. He tosses his gun onto the table and drags a hand through his black hair like he’s trying to rip the day out of it.

You step out into the hall. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he cuts in, voice rough. His violet eyes lock onto you. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I was just—”

“Just what?” His temper snaps fast. “You stand there every night like you’ve got nothing better to do.” His jaw tightens. “Piece of shit, at least act like you got a life.”

The insult sits heavy between you.

He exhales through his nose, frustrated, and brushes past you, shoulder hitting yours on purpose.

“Make coffee,” he mutters. “Strong. And don’t make me ask twice.”