Ruby's voice was like ice cracking, thin, sharp, and dangerously cold. She sat on the edge of the bed, her frame looking fragile, but her eyes held a terrifying, dark light. She didn't want comfort, she wanted a blade.
"Are you okay?" Max asked, his voice thick with concern.
Ruby nodded slowly, but it wasn't a gesture of peace. It was the movement of a wolf. Violet was still out there, breathing the same air, while her mother was in the grave.
"Hey, talk to me," Max pleaded, stepping closer. "We will get them. I promise you, Ruby."
He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she flinched away as if his skin were fire. She didn't want his warmth, she needed someone to burn, and right now, he was the easiest target. She turned to him, her gaze piercing through his armor.
"Get them?" she spat the words out. "I suppose all those ledgers and files you spent all night obsessed with led nowhere. They didn't prove a thing, did they?
