Roman
T he Legan home is a twenty-minute drive from mine. Neither myself nor Elena say a word for the first five minutes of the drive. But not hearing her voice feels odd, so I feel inclined to speak.
“The silence is eerie, trouble. What are you thinking about?”
I glance at her and her eyes are fixed straight on the road. She’s sitting ramrod straight, tension in her shoulders.
“What do you think I’m going to do to you?” I ask, amused.
She shrugs. “Nothing. But have you ever thought about what I could do to you?” she retorts with a mischievous smile.
“Probably not much,” I reply. “You’re a terrible shot, you’re awful at combat, and you’re tiny. I could break you so easily.”
I feel her glare on the side of my face. “Don’t underestimate me, Roman. I’m much stronger than you give me cr
