Theodora read the ping on her palm, her lips tightening. This had to be the man she’d shot, Armand’s friend Baruch. Guilt shot through her that she’d been responsible for his situation.
If she hadn’t injured him, his scars wouldn’t have been revealed. Becoming the subject of an intensive experiment was far far worse than being harvested as a shade.
Which wasn’t ideal, either. She should have been merciful and shot him dead when she’d had the chance.
Theodora averted her gaze, thinking furiously. Did Armand know about his friend’s defect? Was he simply protective of the other man because of his flaw? What the heck were the two of them doing, enrolling as students of the Institute, with Baruch having those scars?
What had caused them?
hadNot that it mattered.
She knew what she had to d
