The car disappeared around the corner, leaving a vacuum of silence that felt heavier than the shouting had been. I stood there, my hands numb from the cold, staring at the empty space Jace had occupied just seconds ago.
Zayelle’s presence beside me was like a static charge—prickly and uncomfortable. When I turned to look at her, there was no "sisterly" solidarity. The vulnerability she’d shown moments ago had been paved over by a layer of cold, shimmering ice.
"Satisfied?" she asked. Her voice was sharp, a complete 180 from the trembling girl who had been crying about Jace’s departure.
I blinked, taken aback. "Satisfied? Zayelle, he just got hauled away by his father. How could I be satisfied?"
She stepped closer, her height and those perfect, expensive boots making her loom over me. "
