Page 9 of Protect Thy Enemy

“Bothering you again,” Park finishes, his expression and eyes darkening to a violent shade. The shift is so subtle that anyone else would’ve missed it. But I don’t. I’ve seen that look before, quite often back in FLETC.

He leans forward slightly, his hands resting on the edge of the table. “You want me to deal with him?”

The words are almost conversational, but they carry a promise. Park isn’t the type to offer lightly or bluff. My chest tightens, and I remember the last time someone pushed me too far, and Park decided to step in. Quietly and efficiently, he left the man with bruises I’m sure he still carries to this day.

That darkness loitered long after the incident was over, and no one bothered me much outside of Corbin and a few of his friends.

“I can handle him,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

He tilts his head, studying me for a moment before nodding. “Good.”

That’s it. No reassurance, no further questions. It’s not like he needs to say much to make his point, and I don’t need him to.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, the tension from earlier slowly ebbing away as I focus on my food. Park leans back in his chair again, the smirk returning to his lips like a flip of a switch.

“He shouldn’t be here,” Park says suddenly, his tone casual but his words cutting.

“Corbin?” I ask, frowning.

Park doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting to the other side of the room. “People like him don’t last long,” he says finally. “Too loud. Too desperate.”

I want to ask what he means, but the way his expression darkens, paired with the quiet intensity in his voice, keeps me silent.

I can identify the second the air between us shifts, the silence thickening as I feel the weight of someone’s gaze.

My instincts prickle, and I glance around the room, my eyes locking on Agent Grant.

He’s standing by the far wall, arms crossed, his piercing blue eyes fixed on me with a fury that sends a chill down my spine. His jaw is tight and his posture rigid, but his eyes? They look as though he could cut me apart with the sheer intensity alone.

“What the hell is his problem?” I mutter, more to myself than to Park.

Park follows my gaze, his blank expression frozen in place. “Grant?” he asks, his tone flat.

"Who else?" I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Grant’s eyes flick briefly to Park, his blue eyes a dark storm, before snapping back to me. I should slap myself at the heat that threatens to rise to my cheeks. It’s followed by confusion and then irritation at the reaction.

I do not blush.

Especially not for men like Dr. Evil over there.

His stare lingers, unreadable, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s trying to intimidate me or set me on fire with his mind. Either way, it’s working.

I tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze with the same defiance that has gotten me into trouble more than once. His lips press into a thin line, the muscle in his jaw ticking before he abruptly turns and stalks out of the cafeteria.

Park leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You want my advice?”

“No,” I say automatically even though I could tell he would give it anyway.

“Ignore him,” Park says, his voice low but firm. “Grant’s the kind of guy who expects everyone around him to be a robot like him. Don’t let it get to you.”

Ironic coming from him.

I nod even though my stomach is still twisted in knots.

Chapter Four

Arden

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