FOURTEEN
“You’re sulking,” Diego said.
Shea guessed it was the next day.
Diego had shown up in her cell, but she really had no idea how long she’d been alone in there. At some point last night, when the weight of grief had exhausted her, she’d fallen asleep, and lost track of time.
Staring up at the ceiling, Shea didn’t even turn her head to look at her friend, though she knew from the angle of his voice that he was sitting against the wall to her far left.
“Leave me alone, D,” she mumbled.
Diego wasn’t discouraged; he didn’t take orders from her. “The problem is, you have a job to do, and it’s my job to make sure you do it,” he said. “You can’t flip-flop, either you’re an inmate or you’re a comrade.”
Not in the mood to be accommodating, even though she was Diego’s subordinate, Shea
