Jason turned on the water and grabbed the first stack of plates, trying to focus on the rhythm of washing, rinsing, stacking. His breath steadied a little, but his mind kept circling the same thought. This had to be a trap. She might be waiting for the right or waiting for him to slip.
Behind him, Marta's ladle paused mid stir.
She glanced at his back, her jaw tightening as memory pulled her into the morning's earlier encounter. She had been on her way to the kitchen, ready to prep breakfast. Then Beta Ellie had stepped right into her path, calm, collected, and cold enough to chill the hallway.
He had looked her straight in the eye and told her she would not lay a finger on Jason anymore.
If the boy resumed his shift, she was to behave.
Or Ellie would handle her himself.
