"Uh… Val—it's…"
The words barely made it out of my throat. My mind scrambled for something—anything—that didn't sound like a confession, an excuse, or a plea for divine intervention.
She stood in the doorway, still holding that food flask like it was some kind of evidence. For a moment, I thought she'd say something sharp or storm out or—God forbid—throw the flask. But she didn't.
Instead, she took a slow, steady breath. The kind she only took when she was trying not to explode.
Then she started walking toward us.
Her heels clicked against the tile, each step deliberate. My pulse thudded in time with them. Tasha straightened beside me, unsure of what to do, her hand still resting on the lid of the flask she'd brought.
Val reached the desk, set her flask down—right next to Tasha's—and then turned to her with the kind of calm smile that should've terrified anyone paying attention.
> "You must be the team leader."
