I sent an email to everyone at KJM while I thought about how to break the news to them—what I had decided. The whole night, I tossed and turned. This was the only way. It seemed like the right way, without any collateral damage.
“I’m done,” I said, getting up from his seat and packing my laptop into the bag. Killian stared at me the whole time I was writing the email, sitting across the table. We were in his office at the headquarters—the room we slept in was attached to this office. That’s why there were no windows. We were still underground. The moment I figured that out, it somehow started to feel more suffocating.
Killian didn’t stop looking at me with that critical expression.
“If you want to say something, say something. Don’t stare at me like this,” I said.
“This is a bad idea.
