70. Feigned Mercy
Raven
“No class today, Raven.”
The words sliced through the silence like a cold blade. I stood frozen, the phone trembling in my grip, screen still lit with the call that had just ended. My eyes fluttered shut. My breath caught. No class meant no Wren.
Again.
I really wanted to talk to her. I really needed her help.
“I told you,” came another statement from Salt closer now and firmer. “There will be no lessons today.”
She stood in the middle of the hallway, arms folded neatly over her chest, blocking the stairs like a gatekeeper. Her eyes watched me, calm and unreadable, but her posture told another untold story.
I narrowed my eyes. “Salt,” I said, voice low and sharp like the beginning of a storm. Something had shifted in me these past few days. Maybe it was the
