Page 63 of Taeja

“Yes.” Damon glanced betweenhis girl and the guest. “This is Taeja.”

Taeja’s eyes narrowed on the woman. “Who are you?” she asked with a trace of attitude.

“I’m Liza, their friend. We go way back,” Liza said with a bright smile. She walked toward Taeja and spread her arms wide. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

Taeja chuckled as she placed the shopping bags on the floor, then stepped into Liza’s hug. Damon’s tense stance slackened. He never intended for them to meet when the situation could’ve been misread.

“They haven’t told me much about you,” Taeja said, ending the hug.

“I figured,” Liza said while linking hands and walking away. “I dropped by earlier to say hey to them, but then Damon just got up and left me. And for me and you? We should get to know each other…”

Their voices faded, and Damon chuckled to himself. He was happy Liza took a quick liking to Taeja, and vice versa. These two women were amongst the few who meant everything to him.

Placing the bags in his hand on the floor, he went to the kitchen in search of Zain. Zain was leaning on a counter and taking large chugs from a water bottle.

Damon crossed his arms and glared. “Are you done being childish, or are you ready to talk now?”

Zain moved the bottle from his mouth, his grip tightening around it as he repeated slowly, “Childish?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.Childish. You know the shit I’ve been through, and you’re gonna say I’m childish?”

Damon’s arms fell to his sides, intensifying his glare. Zain’s hair was back to its usual state of framing his face, so Damon couldn’t read his expression clearly. But he saw Zain’s eyes peeking through the long locs, their fiery gaze mirroring Damon’s anger. “I’m not downplaying what you’ve been through. I’m saying you should stop being angry at the wrong person.”

“Wrong person?” Zain scoffed. “Please tell me who I’m supposed to be angry at.”

“The mercenaries.”

Zain looked away while repeating a word laced with mockery and disdain: “Mercenaries?”

“Anyone except Liza. She’s never been anything less than a friend to you—”

Zain snapped his head around so fast, it was a miracle his neck didn’t snap. His locs shifted, revealing newfound anger burning in his eyes. “So, Liza’s just a fucking saint, huh?”

“Yes, she’s a saint! Did she tie you up and torture you?! No, she didn’t.”

Zain scoffed and started walking away. “Believe what you want. I’m going home.”

“Yes, leave! Don’t come back unless you’re ready to put that behind you.”

Zain paused to look over his shoulder. Before his eyes could meet Damon’s, the ladies bolted into the kitchen.

Taeja glanced between the fuming men, her brows knitting. “What’s happening?”

Zain’s fist clenched while Damon’s jaw tensed. “Nothing,” Zain said, walking away.

“Zain,” Taeja rushed out, causing him to stop. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Taeja’s brows furrowed further. “You are home.”

Zain glanced at Damon, his face a passive slate while Damon’s glare deepened. With a slight shake of his head, Zain looked at Taeja. “This isn’t my home,” hesaid, then took long strides out of the kitchen.

Taeja looked at Damon while Liza sighed. “What happened?” she asked, wincing as a loud slam drifted through the house.

“Nothing,” Damon stated bitterly.

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