Jeremy lay sprawled on the cold linoleum floor of the Samael Corporation lobby, groaning faintly through a jaw that was no longer aligned. His teeth, shattered and broken, glittered like bits of porcelain across the glossy surface. Blood pooled around him in a slow, spreading circle, the sharp tang of iron mixing with the sterile scent of disinfectant. No one rushed to help him. His presence had always been tolerated rather than welcomed, and now the group barely spared him a glance. The real weight of the moment pressed elsewhere.
Rachel shifted on her heels, her eyes flicking once toward the twitching man on the ground before turning to Adam. He had been admiring Greg's work on Jeremy's jaw with a grim sort of fascination. The faintest smile curled her lips as she asked, "Do you know what Melanie is after?"
Her voice carried a note of trepidation. Not fear, but something softer, as if the thought had been gnawing at her for too long.
