Knox’s hungry growl turns into one of frustration, and he reaches over and picks up a knife from the counter, throwing it toward the door just as it opens. The blade hits with a thud, embedding a couple of inches into the wood, and I look over to see Ash rolling his eyes. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that a knife flew toward his head as soon as he entered the room, like he knows Knox missed on purpose. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says,
