“Dax, keep your damn head and chill the fuck out!” York snaps. He’s on edge too, that’s clear enough from the sharp look he gives me, but it’s tempered with the worry that flashes across his face. It’s so brief that I’m unable to figure out if he’s worried for me, or worried about the war Dax has brought down on their heads. Likely the latter. “I won’t chill the fuck out,” Dax mocks, “until we’ve got the fuck out of here.” He glares at me, pointing at the Bentley. “For the last time, Pen. Get in the damn car! I’ve already stuck my neck out for you tonight.” “Stuck your neck out for me?” I
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