“Idalia, talk to me. What’s wrong? What are you saying?” “It’s too late,” she mumbles. “It’s too late for me to run.” Anger rolls through me like a wave gaining traction in a storm. “Talk to me, damnit! What’s going on?” Her wet lashes stick together, but her stare still pierces me. She wipes her hand across her nose. “How could you do it, Braizen? Before they come, tell me. How could you!? Was it all a lie!”
