INDY
So, it’s already established that Clara is not the protagonist—but the villain of this story.
The problem was… what was I supposed to do with that information?
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring down at my hands. The gauze was long discarded, leaving a scar that was scabbing. The skin around it felt tight and itchy, but it was better than a fresh wound. My wrist, however, still throbbed with a dull, persistent ache that refused to be ignored. Every small movement sent a reminder up my arm.
I flexed my fingers slowly, testing the pain.
“Great,” I muttered.
I exhaled and leaned back against the wall, letting my head rest there for a second.
Clara is dangerous.
And worse—she was smart.
She didn’t attack directly. She planted seeds and turned people against me without ever g
