Ella
The studio lights felt hotter than before.
Not physically, no, I’d lived through real fire, I knew the difference, but the way they bore down on us now carried a different kind of heat.
Exposure. Judgment. Truth stripped naked and dragged into public view.
Paige sat stiffly beside Raylan, her shoulders rigid, her perfectly manicured nails digging into her own palms as if pain might anchor her.
She didn’t look at me anymore. She couldn’t. Not after everything that had been said. Not after the mask she’d worn for over a decade cracked in front of millions.
Her earlier words still echoed in my mind.
"Everyone must confront the consequences of their actions."
The irony would’ve been funny if it hadn’t been soaked in blood and smoke.
I leaned back slightly in my chair, crossing
