39. Grudge

Damian

My eyebrows twitched as Connor sipped tea calmly sitting in the living room. Myra sat on one of the settees. Her gaze darting towards me from time to time. "How did you find this house?" I asked him, crossing my arms across my chest. Connor placed the cup and saucer down and leaned on the sofa. "I...navigated." I furrowed my eyebrows. It wasn't possible unless...No, Andrew wouldn't divulge a thing, even if his life was on the line. 

"Why are you here?" I asked impatiently. When Connor knocked on the door this morning, I had almost ripped out his throat, thinking it was some imposter. Then he asked for a cup of tea from Myra, who had come downstairs as well and refused to answer any question until now. 

"I realised that talking in the middle of the woods was a dangerous thing, especially now that both of you are fugitives like me," he explained, his tone held a hint of sarcasm which grated my skin. I knew he would not leave any o