I scrubbed my hands in the hotel bathroom sink, holding my own gaze so I didn’t have to watch the water turn crimson. A bubble of manic laughter expanded in my chest. So long hiding from mirrors, and here I was clinging to one to keep my wits.

But I couldn’t laugh. I couldn’t anything. Because as soon as I started feeling, I’d have to think about everything that had happened, and I needed to flee the country, not break down.

My hands still clung to each other stickily. The sink wasn’t doing enough. And Zahur’s blood covered my chest. I switched on the shower and paced.

Killian kept watch outside the door. Another odd, almost-funny thought. The Mano Della Morte guarded my back. I trusted him to do so. But I did. Something had come over his face when he said Tom was injured, something I’d seen a whisper of in our conversation about the plane. I didn’t know what kind of person Killian was, but I knew he loved Tom more than anyone in the world except Sera, and he’d die to keep Tom s
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