“OKAY, I’M CALM NOW,” I said, feeding them an absolute crock.
When Ethan updated me on how close we’d been to the witches, and their outsmarting of us, one of the dining chairs had been sent skidding across tiles until a collision with the fridge brought it to an ear-clattering standstill, and a small crater had been created in the wood of the door to the hallway by my fist.
Connor still rubbed at his jaw, where my elbow had connected when he restrained me until Beth took over.
Beth held me tight, her hands rubbing at my shoulders, an attempt to relax muscles that refused to concede. “It’s not your fault,” she told me.
I didn’t believe her.
“The witches had obviously come prepared for such an eventuality.”
Yep. I gave her that one.
My wild, gesticulating arms and uncontrollable shak
