The safehouse door had barely clicked shut when Avery grabbed Ezra by the collar and shoved him against the wall.
"Enough games," she said, eyes blazing in the low light. "That wound on your side. You did not get it from any guard. Tell me the truth right now, Ezra. Why did you stab yourself?"
Ezra winced but did not push her away. I stood frozen near the kitchen counter, Jax right beside me. The room smelled like old wood and gun oil.
"Avery, let him breathe," I said. "We just pulled you from that cell. Give him a second."
"No," she snapped back fast. "He has been bleeding for us since the breakout. I wrapped it in the van but something is off. Ezra, talk. You owe me that much after blowing the prison plan wide open."
Ezra slid down into a chair, pressing fresh gauze to his side. "
