I had little time to myself. The screaming outside of my room was bang on time. I smiled to myself and checked my weapon. Still there, though it had shifted a little. I opened the door, answering the urgent hammering against it.
“What’s going on?” I asked frowning, noting a ruffled-looking Luther standing in front of me.
“You’re coming to my room, now,” he demanded without explanation.
“I beg your pardon,” I snapped, whipping my hand away from his grasp, his fingers wrapped firmly around my wrist, “Why?”
“You know why!” He argued. I did, but I wanted to hear him say it.
“Look, if they want to scream and shout to scare me, fine. But I’m not going anywhere without a good reason.”
“They’re not doing it to scare you, Ava,” he said, his tone thick with tension. “They want to kill you.”
