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“How would you know that?” Oscar remarks.

“Hunch,” Talon shrugs indifferently.

I sip my tea, savoring the soothing warmth as it slides down my throat. “Should someone check on him? Make sure he's okay?”

“I wouldn't,” Talon says quickly, something flickering across his face too fast for me to interpret. “He's in the zone. Interrupting him now would just piss him off."

“Even if I interrupted him?”

“Yes,” they all answer in unison.

Their unanimous answer startles me. I set my mug down on the coffee table with a soft clink, suddenly feeling the need to check on Alex myself. Whatever he's working on has kept him locked away for hours. What if he needs something? Food? Water? A reminder that other humans exist?

I push myself up from the couch, wincing slightly as my sore muscles protest.

“Where are you going?” Z asks, already half-rising from his seat.

“To check on Alex,” I answer, taking a step toward the hallway.

Talon clears his throat. “Before you do that, I was wondering what you were thinking for dinner tonight?”

I pause, turning to face him. “Dinner?”

“Yeah,” he says casually, though something in his expression seems almost too deliberate. “Your choice. Anything you want.”

I narrow my eyes, suspicious of the sudden change of subject. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“No,” Talon says, looking offended. “I'm trying to plan ahead. In case I need to hit up the grocery store.”

“I'm thinking...” I draw out the word as I study Talon's face. “That you're a terrible liar.”

Z snorts from his position on the couch. “He really is.”

“I'm not lying,” Talon protests, but there's a slight flush creeping up his neck that betrays him. Talon is many things. A great cook, someone who always seems to be able to make me laugh, but a liar, he is not. “I'm genuinely curious about dinner.”

“At two in the afternoon?” I cross my arms. “What's going on with Alex that you don't want me to see?”

“Vesper,” Oscar begins carefully, closing his laptop. “Alex gets...intense when he's working. He doesn't like interruptions.”

“That's putting it mildly,” Talon mutters. “Last time I walked in on him mid-hack, he nearly threw a keyboard at my head.”

“So you're saying I should just let him starve in there?”

“He's got protein bars and energy drinks stashed everywhere,” Z offers. “Like a squirrel preparing for nuclear winter.”

“That's not healthy,” I argue.

“Neither is disturbing him right now,” Oscar counters, his voice gentle but firm. “Trust me, solnishko. When he's ready, he'll emerge.”

Something in their collective reluctance makes me more determined. Perhaps it's the lingering spark from this morning's training session with Talon, or maybe it's just my natural stubbornness, but I find myself stepping toward the hallway with renewed purpose.

“I'm just going to knock,” I insist. “If he tells me to go away, I will.” I pause, giving them all a pointed look.

The three men exchange glances, some silent communication passing between them that I can't quite decipher. Finally, Oscar sighs. “Fine, but don't say we didn't warn you.”

“I can check on him,” Talon offers.

“No, I will,” I demand, not dismissing Talon’s odd behavior when it comes to Alex. What the hell is going on between the two of them?