EMMALINE
I’m still trying to figure out who the woman is when she pulls out a chair and sits down like she owns the entire café.
“What—” Nico’s voice falters before he can finish, the words dying on his tongue. His reaction tells me everything I need to know. Whoever she is, he knows her. He knows her well.
But she isn’t looking at him. Her eyes are locked on me, sharp and unblinking, her smile stretched wide enough to show teeth. It isn’t warm, isn’t friendly. It’s the kind of smile you wear when you’re already two steps ahead in whatever game you’re playing.
“So you’re her.”
The words are flat—not a question, not even curious. Just certain. The way she says it makes my skin prickle. Her. As if there’s only one possible answer. As if I’ve already been defined by something I don’t und
