RYAN
She huffed out a quiet breath, the sound half a laugh, half disbelief.
“You really don’t mince words, do you?” she said, pushing herself off the wall. She scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palm, as if embarrassed by the moment of weakness. “You shouldn’t take her seriously. Veronica’s always been like that. Loud and cruel. She performs kindness like it’s a stage act.”
“I take cruelty seriously,” I replied.
She studied me for a second, something thoughtful flickering across her face, then shook her head. “Come on. We still have work to do.” We walked on.
For a while, neither of us spoke. The city swallowed us again, car horns, footsteps, the rhythm of people rushing toward lives that didn’t pause for public humiliation. Claire’s pace was brisk, purposeful, like if she slow
