ALLISON
Both our heads snapped toward the door to meet the new visitors, or rather, the audience.
Three figures framed the doorway; The Leader, Lacey, and Dr. Miyuki, the head of the clinic. It was the greying, diminutive doctor who had spoken. She stood beside the Leader, one hand tucked into her pristine white lab coat, a stethoscope draped around her neck. Her silver hair, the only betrayal of her fifty-plus years, was cropped into a sharp bob that barely brushed her slender shoulders.
Her dark eyes glinted with mischief, and the cheeky grin plastered on her face made me want to crawl into a hole and die. Dr. Miyuki was the one person who knew the depth of my pathetic feelings for Damien, and the one person who never hesitated to roast me for them.
She stepped forward, prowling to t
