19
Rose’s words sting worse than her slap.
Rubbing my cheek, I say, “This—whatever this is—is not something I caused. It’s the opposite. I’m here because I’m trying to help you.”
“Help us, right,” she sneers. “Help put us all into early graves.”
“Why would I say I want to help if it wasn’t true?”
“I can think of a million treacherous reasons,” she says bitterly. “Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Because I don’t need to lie to you.” My voice takes on a sharper edge. I’m quickly losing what little goodwill I had when I pulled her in. My jaw tightening, I show her my gun, trying my best not to make the gesture seem menacing. “If I wanted to harm you, I would’ve shot you already.”
“I think you want to gloat.” Her sharp tone matches mine. “You want to enjoy my suffering before yo
