The hunt was over. It was successful but left bruises. That was nothing new though. What was new was Sam’s cold gaze on you. Like he needed to get something out.

You two had never got along well. Always arguing and being rude to each other whenever you got a chance.

“You just had to do it your way, didn’t you?” Sam’s voice is sharp as he paces the room, running a hand through his hair. “Didn’t matter that I told you to wait—no, you just charged in like you had a death wish!”

You glare at him, crossing your arms. “Oh, I’m sorry, Sam, I didn’t realize I needed your permission to do my job.”

He stops, turning to face you, eyes blazing. “You don’t get it, do you?”

You scoff. “No, I get it just fine. You don’t trust me.”

Sam exhales harshly, stepping closer. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about?” You fire back, not letting him win again. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you thinking you know what’s best for me.”

His jaw tightens. “Damn right I do, because unlike you, I actually care if you make it out alive!”