The lights buzzed. Loud. Flickering. Like flies trapped in a jar. One of 'em popped overhead, and Camille flinched even though it was already over.
Glass still shimmered on the marble like spilled ice. That second shot rang in her head like it was still happening.
The gunman was down now. Tackled. Disarmed. Gone.
But her hands were still shaking, sweaty on Ellie’s tiny fingers, slipping like her whole body didn’t know how to be still.
The courtroom smelled like fear and bleach—like hospitals and bad memories and somewhere in between. Her chest heaved. Her stomach rolled. That old weight pressed on her lap, her stupid heavy backpack like a brick strapped to her.
It’s over?
Is it?
Please, God—
Adrian sat close, but not touching. Still bleeding. Still pale. His sleeve was stiff, dried
