The air in the administrative corridor was suffocating, thick with the scent of old wood and the bitter tang of Sera’s own dread. The moment she stepped out for the recess, a hand clamped onto her arm like a vice.
It was Mira. Her eyes were bloodshot, her sharp features twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. She looked like a woman who had been forced to play a mindless puppet for a month and was finally ready to tear the strings off. Without a word, Mira dragged Sera into the shadows of a deep window alcove, her grip tight enough to leave bruises through the fabric of Sera's coat.
"Tell me everything," Mira hissed, her chest heaving as she demanded answers. "Now!"
"Later, Mira — "
"Sera, look at me!" Mira’s voice didn't just c***k; it shattered. "I have walked past that high
