Clara lay on the sofa of their suites with a bag of ice on her knee and a cold cloth on her forehead. “I’m dying,” she uttered to nobody in particular. The sound of retching in the bathroom made her gag and she closed her eyes as the room spun dangerously around her.
She had been laying there since they’d gotten back from Cat’s underground fight club and trying desperately to ignore the increasing symptoms of a hangover. Her sister was bright-eyed, sitting in an oversized armchair opposite her, enthralled with what she had witnessed from the four women.
“You’re a bunch of f*****g warriors. Crazy-assed warriors.”
“Language,” Cat whispered from where she lay on the floor behind the sofa. She hadn’t even made it to a piece of furniture. There had been booze at the club, so they had drunk t
