Marrok stood there, his hand still half-raised, like he could call her back with a gesture. He stared at the door, his mind racing but unable to piece together what had just happened. That mental wall of hers — no, that mask — was too perfect.
Now do you believe me? Zeev's voice slithered into his thoughts, cold and taunting. She's not as innocent as you thought.
Marrok exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging slightly. Finally he thought, you're back.
But that doesn't prove anything, he argued inwardly.
Keep lying to yourself, Zeev growled, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Marrok?" Raul called cautiously, his voice breaking through the mental haze. He took another step closer, his expression a careful mix of concern and curiosity. "You good?"
Marrok blinked, snapping back to the present. He ran a hand roughly through his hair, his frustration barely concealed. "Let's go," he muttered.
