Chapter Eighteen
Kara sat at her dining room table, eyes red, although it seemed as if she was all cried out by the time Gideon and I got to the house. Kirsten was next to her, holding her hand, while behind her, Lance paced angrily, hands knotted into fists at his side.
“I told her not to go,” he growled, frustration and fury spiking out from him in bright, needle-like bursts of crimson and carmine. “Told her it wasn’t safe. But she told me I was being silly. Silly!” The last word was more spat than pronounced.
“Go where?” I asked.
Lance stopped pacing. Not that that was much of an improvement; I saw the way his eyes narrowed as they took in Gideon standing next to me. He’d activated his disguise just in case we were stopped by the police or anything like that, but of course Lance kne
