“Reva!” Crow’s voice sounded desperate, anxious, happy. Reva’s shoulders stiffened and she slowly turned around. The way she was observing Crow wasn’t the sweet adoring way she’d looked at Dorothy—it was something furious and Dorothy wanted to shrink into herself, even though the anger wasn’t focused at her. “Don’t you dare speak to me!” Reva seethed. “Don’t you dare ever speak to me again. This, this is all your fault, and you are nothing to me.”
