I let my body relax back into the chair, a new, different smile—thin and edged with challenge—touching my lips as I meet my brother's cold stare.
As if nothing in the world is wrong.
"Well," I say smoothly, "what a surprise… big brother."
Silence.
"Please, sit, Big Brother," I say, my voice soft as silk.
Zyke doesn't move. He just stares, a glacier in a tailored suit. Then, his arm whips forward. A file slams onto the desk between us, the crack of paper against wood a gunshot in the silent office.
I don't flinch. I just look down at it. "What is it, Big Brother?"
He doesn't answer. Instead, he finally takes the seat Deniz just vacated, the air turning several degrees colder. I blink, looking at the file. Now what does he want?
But this time, I'm not the scrambling, desperate little brother. This time, I'm prepared.
