Lyse didn't remember the drive home any more than she remembered arriving at the detention center. Everything after seeing Lottie's unmoving form in that medical cell and imagining Brooke motionless and covered in a sheet felt like a blur, a smear of sound and light and dread pressing on every part of her.
She walked into her building like she was sleepwalking.
The lobby looked too bright, too normal, too alive. People chatted by the mailboxes. Someone laughed near the elevator. The scent of coffee drifted from the café downstairs.
It felt obscene that the world kept turning.
Lyse stepped into the elevator, pressed her floor, and held her breath.
By the time the doors slid open, she was barely upright.
She stepped out—
—and froze.
Brandon was pacing in front of her apartment door like a volcano about to rupture.
His head snapped up the moment he heard her heels.
"Lyse."
His tone was sharp, furious, edged with something she had learned long ago to fear.
