Something bigger than Maddy giving birth.
“Sora?” That was all I said—no elaboration, no pretense that what she was about to say might not rock me to my core. I waited for her to speak, feeling emptiness bubbling up inside of me instead of anger, exhaustion instead of fear.
I didn’t want to hate Macbeth’s mother again, didn’t want to look at her and see the bad things, instead of the good. She must not have wanted that, either, because she expelled a long breath and then started talking.
“What exactly did Callum tell you about Maddy?” she asked. “What did he tell you about the Senate?”
Callum had told me that Maddy might be rabid.
I’d discovered she wasn’t.
He’d told me that if Maddy wasn’t the killer, the Senate wouldn’t be able to enact the vote.
“He told me she was safe,” I said,
