“Bane Protsenko?” Nolan scratched his smooth forehead. “C’mere.” Bane curled his ringed fingers that held the blunt, beckoning. Henry was still on the ground, choking on a sob. Bane’s jaw was locked so tight I thought his teeth were going to snap out of his mouth. Nolan walked over to them, coiling into himself as his posture caught up with his pulse.
jaw . dropped .
