Sarahs POV
The strobe of the police lights felt like a physical weight, pulsing against my eyelids in rhythmic, nauseating flashes of blue and red. I was curled in the corner of the guest room, my back pressed against the cold drywall. My hands were shaking so violently I had to lock them together just to keep my balance. I looked down, my fingers fumbling with the button of my pants. They had only been shoved down past my hips before the door exploded, but the cold air hitting my skin made me feel completely exposed. I tugged the denim back into place, my movements jerky and frantic, as if getting dressed could erase the last ten minutes.
The air in the room was toxic. It tasted like Liam’s rage, the metallic tang of Jason’s blood, and the cloying, sweet scent of shattered perfume. It
