THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME
The kind that made your ribs feel too small for your heart.
“You know,” she said, her gaze flicking over Fiero’s limp form like it didn’t matter, “if you’re gonna keep flatlining in public, at least do it with flair. Fake a seizure. Bite Moses. Make it memorable.”
Joy didn’t bother to answer. She was too busy holding Fiero’s head up, brushing his damp curls from his forehead, checking the color in his cheeks.
“Seriously, Joy,” Mika added, eyes gleaming. “If you’re going to break your toys, at least let us borrow them first.”
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