Calla:
For a few seconds, nobody moved. I stood in the middle of Camden's garage, surrounded by broken glass, overturned boxes, scattered tools, and black paint that dripped down the walls like blood. CALLA VANCE IS A TRAITOR. The words were everywhere. On the front door. Across the brick. Sprayed over the old Riverside sticker Camden had put up years ago. Someone had even painted across the faded photograph of Camden and me standing beside Bubblegum when I was sixteen. That one hurt the most. I stared at it. My brother's face was half-covered in black paint. My chest tightened. "Fuck."
I walked toward it. Jace reached for me. I shook my head. "No." I touched the edge of the photograph. The glass was cracked, but the picture was still there. Camden's arm was around my shoulders. I was gr
