I walk out of the dungeon with blood drying on my hands and a hurricane twisting in my chest.
The interrogation gave me nothing. Nothing but more questions. Nothing but more rage. Nothing but more pressure sitting squarely on my ribs like a stone trying to c***k them open.
I wipe my hands on my pants, even though the stains won’t come off, but it just feels weird having her blood staining my hands. It feels almost wrong.
Behind me, Lola’s sobs echo down the hallway, but I don’t look back. I can’t.
Raven follows silently at first, her steps soft and careful, like she’s approaching a wounded animal.
“Sadie,” she whispers.
I stop walking. Mostly because my legs suddenly feel too damn heavy to move.
She steps closer until she’s directly in my line of sight. Her gaze is steady, but I can
