The air was thick enough to choke on, tension pressing down from all sides. I tried to keep my face calm, but my nerves were wound so tight that I could barely think straight.
Sitting in the middle of this charged silence, I felt like a rabbit caught between a hawk and a panther.
Maeve, to my left, was as relaxed as ever, leaning back with that knowing smirk of hers, eyes drifting occasionally to Zaya with a look that seemed to challenge.
And Zaya, on my right, was focused entirely on her food, barely touching it, but not willing to look at either of us, her jaw clenched tightly. The silence stretched between us, tense and uncomfortable.
I busied myself with my own plate, pushing food around with my fork more than eating. But when I felt Maeve shift beside me, I knew something was coming. Her gaze slid to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and then darted over to Zaya with a barely concealed smirk.
