Calla stared in a daze at the view before her. Rico had driven them back to his house. He’d been quiet the whole ride, speeding down the highway and ignoring traffic lights. Strangely, no cop car showed up behind them.
She had looked his way, shifted in her seat, even hugged her legs—hoping he would at least glance at her, even if it was just for two seconds. But he never did.
Eventually, she gave up and sank back into the chair, a small pout on her lips.
How was he the one acting like she didn’t exist? She should be the one with smoke coming out of her ears. She was the one who’d been wronged—left alone in a room full of vultures, attacked by five girls, and then lied to by the lady who helped her.
So why was she the one getting ignored?
Rico finally turned off the engine, snapping h
