Controlled.
Too calm.
I don’t look up.
“I am.”
That word again.
I hear it this time.
Don’t like it.
Don’t stop saying it.
“Doesn’t look like it,” he replies.
I finish checking my mag.
Slide it into place.
Secure.
Precise.
“Looks fine to me.”
A pause.
Then footsteps.
Closer.
I can feel him there now.
Standing just off my shoulder.
Watching.
Waiting.
“You’re rushing,” he says.
“I’m efficient.”
“You’re compensating.”
That—
That hits a nerve.
I glance up then.
Meet his gaze.
Flat.
Unyielding.
