Evander's POV
The scene needed no words to humiliate my patience.
One of my men—young, newly transferred, clearly brainless—leaned forward and handed Odette the menu as if she could read the damn thing.
I didn't even have to say anything. My brow rose, slow, deliberate. The kind of look that said you're a dead man walking, and he still didn't seem to get it.
Mara's voice broke the silence first, careful, nervous. "It's the menu, madam."
And Odette, of course, didn't miss a beat.
"Wow. Really?" she said, her voice drenched in sarcasm so rich it could drown a man. "I forgot. I'm no longer blind and I can suddenly read the menu now."
She turned her head toward him, blind eyes sharp as knives, and somehow managed to make the entire table feel like a classroom full of idiots.
A few of the men nearby tried not to laugh. I heard it—their muffled breath, the strain in their throats. My glare was enough to kill the sound instantly.
