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Doing something.

It should help.

My hands are still curled into fists on the table.

Sentinel stays in the chair beside me while the room empties. “For what it’s worth, I know translating for you is pissing you off.” I look at him. “And before you give me that face, yes, I know I get it wrong sometimes.”

Sometimes?

My eyebrows climb.

“Fine. More than sometimes.”

I grab my phone…

YOU’RE SHIT AT IT.

Sentinel reads the screen and nods thoughtfully. “Constructive.” Nod. “Helpful.” Nod. “Really appreciate the feedback.”

You called it charades.

He scoffs like he’s deeply offended. “Wreck called it charades.”

YOU LAUGHED.

“Because it was funny.”

I stare at him.

He grins at me, using his pointer finger and thumb to measure an inch. “Little bit funny.”

My middle finger rises instantly.

He points at it. “See, that one never needs translating.”

A silent laugh pushes through my chest before I can stop it, leaving nothing but a rush of air behind.

The smile drops from Sentinel’s face for half a second.

I fucking hate that half second.

So, I shoulder him hard enough to shove him sideways.

He catches himself against the table and looks back at me. “Dick.”

Better.

I push out of my chair. “Where are you going?”

I look at him, raising my brow, and his eyes narrow before understanding hits. “Right… Echo.”

My hellhound immediately pushes beneath my skin.

Traitor.

Sentinel’s grin starts, and I point at him.

Don’t.