Chapter 97 The Scarlet Fang

• Laura stared at me like she’d seen a ghost. Or maybe something worse—something she had buried so deep, it hurt just to look at it again.
• Her fingers curled tighter around the coffee mug, and I could see the way her knuckles whitened. Her lips parted, but she said nothing. Not yet. Her eyes flicked down to the pendant around her neck, then to me, then back again—as if comparing, calculating, unraveling.
• I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.