Freya
The cold stone walls seemed to press in on me, the air thick with dampness and the weight of our predicament. My sister huddled against the far wall, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she could somehow shield herself from the reality of where we were.
“How are we going to survive this?” she whispered, her voice shaky. Her eyes locked onto mine, pleading for an answer, for hope, for something I wasn’t sure I could give her.
A wave of anger surged through me, fierce and hot, catching me off guard. I clenched my fists at my sides, feeling my nails dig into my palms. And Zayn… God, Zayn. She destroyed him, too.
I should hate her. I do hate her.
“I didn’t mean any of this,” she said, her voice trembling, so faint I almost didn’t hear it.
I snorted, shaking my head in dis
