“She still lives in the Springs. We could—” “You’re not allowed to stab her. If you get arrested, Thatcher is going to blame us, and I am not dealing with his melodrama,” Sage interjects before Lyra can finish her sentence, making her roll her eyes. “I was going to say we could slash her tires,” Lyra corrects, and although her features give an innocent, shy vibe, there is a look in her eye that tells me she’d kill someone if she had to.
