Chapter 33
- Leila
- I don't remember the taxi ride home. Just fragments: the driver's nervous glance in the rearview, Lucas' limo glued to the bumper like a shadow, the way my knuckles whitened on the door handle.
- Anger hummed in my veins, thick and hot, until every breath tasted like ash. The world outside the window blurred—storefronts, streetlights, faces—all of it slurring into a smear of disgust.