Miss Virtue didn’t even blink. Vengeance let out a low growl, filled with more malevolence than Bitter had ever heard from the angel since she’d called it out of the painting. “Traitor,” it hissed, and its voice was a thousand knives scraping over taut glass, forcing everyone in the atrium to clap their hands over their ears, collectively wincing as the sound bled into their skulls. Miss Virtue gave it an empty smile. “It’s good to see you again, sib.”
