Bella
I stepped out of Darrell’s apartment and let the door click shut behind me softly. The hallway air hit colder than I expected, or maybe it was just the sudden emptiness in my chest making everything feel sharper. My eyes were already soaked, tears blurring the edges of the corridor lights. I made it three steps before my legs gave out. I crouched right there against the wall, knees to my chest, biting my bottom lip so hard I tasted blood.
I hadn’t been late because of traffic. I’d been late because of Lara.
An hour and a few minutes ago, she’d finally walked through our hostel door—smiling and acting casual, like nothing had changed. And I’d been waiting. Waiting to ask her everything Jones had thrown at me, everything that had been eating me alive since he showed me those photos.
