We walk through the plaza with all our belongings, the weight of failure heavy on our shoulders.
The cover story came fast: Killian caught me cheating with Reed, they fought, Cherrie and I tried to break it up. The hotel staff bought it, barely. Someone almost called the police, seeing Killian and Reed bleeding, but we swore it was settled.
The result: we paid for the damage and got kicked out.
“From tourists to homeless in Belarus,” Cherrie mutters bitterly.
“I’m sorry, guys. This is all my fault,” I say.
“This isn’t your fault, June,” Reed scolds gently, though he can barely put weight on his right foot.
Killian stays composed, but his breathing is ragged, his left side bleeding through the towel Cherrie found.
“And at least you didn’t attack us after the fight,” Reed adds.
“That
