The Tyrant's captive bride
It’s Lauren, the kind one from my old psych class who always shared notes and smiled too much, and I don’t trust her for shit because what if Elias planted her, what if this is another spy like Sophia, but my ankle is throbbing and I’m already late on my window so I snap, “Back off, Lauren, I don’t need a babysitter, I’m fine, go study or whatever normal people do.”
She doesn’t listen, just kneels right there ignoring my glare and pulls a little first-aid kit from her bag like some girl-scout psycho, wrapping my ankle quick and tight while she babbles, “You jumped that fence like you’re running from the devil, Harper, what’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept in weeks and your belly…w
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