Andrew's POV
The wind moved across the border, lifting strands of Amanda's hair, carrying with it the lingering scent of what had happened minutes ago—the blood, the dirt, the faint sweetness that didn't belong here.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Amanda stared at me, her expression caught between disbelief and something far more fragile, before she let out a short, strained laugh that came far too quickly to be genuine.
"That's not funny, Andrew," she said, shaking her head as if the motion alone could undo what she had just heard. "You mean Serena. This is about Serena, isn't it? You're making a point."
I didn't answer.
I simply watched her.
That silence—deliberate, unbroken—began to do what no accusation ever could.
It forced her to think.
Behind her, the others shifted uneasily,
