DALA
The guard raised a mask like it was some royal invitation, but I shook my head with the firmest “no thank you” I’d ever mustered.
“Compulsory,” he grunted, like I’d just committed a federal crime.
“I said no,” I repeated, firmer this time, heat already creeping up my neck. I didn’t care if it was compulsory. I wasn’t about to walk into a mystery party with my identity outed.
Ayra stepped up before I could work myself into a full-blown argument. “If she doesn’t want it, then she doesn’t want it,” she snapped, standing in front of me.
“She has to wear—”
“She doesn’t have to do anything,” Arya snapped again, her thin voice edged with venom. “I suggest you figure out who I am before you lose your job over a stupid mask.”
The guard blinked, his eyes locking onto hers, yet he zoned
