The silver in his eyes swirled to melting metal. He bent into my face, leaning in so close our noses nearly touched. “When I give you an order, you obey.” “I’m sorry.” My apology only seemed to make him angrier. That buzzing I’d felt in Roslo, the simmering rage, boiled to the surface. “If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I tell you to hop on one foot and pat your hair, then you. Fucking. Hop. Do we have an understanding?” “No.”
