The tension in the motel did everything but die down.

Alec sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

His index finger tapped steadily against the small wooden table—like he was counting down to something only he could hear.

Arjun paced the carpet between the bed and the door, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders tight like he was holding himself together by force.

“Would you stop pacing?” Alec said, voice low but edged with irritation. “You’re giving me anxiety.”

Arjun spun on his heel. “You should be anxious!” he snapped, louder than he meant to. “Because at this point, you’re not...