Ezandinius turns his back on us and walks away. Theoria walks up to me again, a tear in her eye, and asks me, “How did you survive the bomb?”
“Hadrian,” I reply and nod toward my friend, who looks back at me with fear in his eyes.
“Don’t tell her that,” he barks.
Theoria points a gun at him, and he holds his hands up defensively. “I didn’t help him,” he says. “I didn’t do anything.”
From behind, one of the survivors walks up and hugs him. “Thank you,” she says, and, as another walks toward me, Theoria aims her gun at them and shouts, “Get the f**k away from him! I’ll kill you right here. Get back!”
Quintino struts up to Theoria and says, “I think you should leave him alone.”
“What?” she screams, and her eyes go wide as she looks back at her colleague.
“I said I think you should leav
