/Zane's POV/
"Honestly, this time, I wish I could," I groaned as I slumped back into my leather seat, the cold, smooth material creaking faintly beneath my shoulders while Damian took the one next to me.
"What was that about?" Damian asked, his eyes flicking toward the door that had clicked shut behind Noah. Noah's hurried footsteps still echoed faintly down the hall.
"I wasn't expecting you… you didn't even call ahead." I pointed out his rather rude habit of showing up unannounced. A dull throb simmered at my temples.
"Y'know, just… like that," he smirked, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest.
"Cut the bullshit, Damian. Why are you really here?" I demanded, and he chuckled—low, amused, with that irritating rasp at the end.
"How's Allison's sister doing?" He asked out of the blue.
"She's—wait, what?" I arched a brow, my mouth moving before my brain caught up. I turned at him with a fierce wary glare on my face.
