“She is not the Chosen One,” he choked. His face was pink, blotchy; there were wet streaks running down his cheeks. His chin buckled as he stalked toward us, still fighting through tears. “She is not, she’s just a popular bitch!” He punched the surface of the lab table with all the force his high-school-boy rage could generate. The tendons in his neck stood out as he pointed a finger at her. “She might be able to keep everyone scared of her. She might be able to terrify Courtney into keeping us a secret, but that doesn’t mean—she’s not worthy of the Prophecy!”
