Seventy Two

Hayden raises an eyebrow and nods to Mitchell, sending daggers his way.

Mitchell rapidly shakes his head, pursing his lips and pointing aggressively at Hayden.

"You do it," he mouths, jutting his chin forward as he scowls.

I'm not doing it, you prick, Hayden declares through their mindlink, slyly flashing him the middle finger.

You are the Gamma, as your Beta, I'm ordering you to do it, Mitchell instantly replies, folding his arms smugly, and waiting for Hayden to react to the response.

You aren't actually commanding me, so I'm not doing it. Ask York or Kathleen to do it; she won't kill either of them, Hayden complains, throwing his arms up silently.

The two men glance furtively at Avery, who is reclining in her seat with her eyes closed.

They know she isn't asleep, she scared the crap out of them all a few minutes earlier when she had joined in on a conversation and debate suddenly. Her breathing is level, and Hayden is convinced she's napping - Mitch assumes she's meditating.

Mitche