When we step back into the rented house, the silence between Killian and me stretches all the way to the door. The living room greets us with the familiar clutter of open food boxes and the muffled sound of Cherrie and Reed laughing, until they see me and the laughter cuts off like a snapped wire.
Cherrie’s chopsticks hover, then almost fall. “But… OH MY GOD, June. You look like you walked out of an action movie crossed with a gothic fairytale.”
I walk in front of them and spin. Black leather pants hugged my legs like armor, sleek and uncompromising, while a designer purple silk shirt shimmered beneath the lights, its gold embellishments, tiny Ankhs stitched in a precise, almost ritual pattern, catching every glance. A narrow black choker sat at the base of my throat, a dark punctuatio
