Rosalia’s POV:
“Heidi,” I whisper, stunned almost into silence. My quiet revelation of our mysterious guest’s identity is met with silence from the others still gathered around the doorway until Hunter seems to realize what I’ve said. “Heidi, why are you here?” I ask, a cold edge to my tone that could freeze a lake in midwinter before a snowfall. “What do you want?”
She shoots me an injured look, her cornflower blue eyes are wide with false hurt that looks deceptive. “Ouch Rosa,” I stiffen when she says that, not aware she knew my name before. “Yes, I know how you are and is that how you treat a guest, especially one who can help you?” Her tone is high and falsetto, immediately grating on my nerves and putting me on high alert. What did she want? I think to myself, utterly at a loss for
