Amber stabbed her fork into the thick cut of steak, juices spilling onto the porcelain plate like a punctured heart. Her jaw worked furiously, each bite faster than the last, more desperate than the one before. She didn't savor the flavor. She didn't care if it was tender or dry. All that mattered was speed.
She swallowed hard, ignoring the burn in her throat. She could barely hear the clink of cutlery from the others over the blood pounding in her ears. Across the table, Jake sat relaxed, his elbows propped up and his fingers steepled under his chin, watching her eat with mild amusement.
Amber scowled at him between bites.
"Disgusting," she muttered, voice low. "The things I have to do to avoid that..."
She stabbed another piece, tore it apart with her teeth. She didn't even bother with the mashed potatoes or the grilled greens. Only the steak counted.
She was halfway through her second slab when the thought finally hit her: 'Where's Zamira?'
