When Mira reached us, she stopped, looking between Angela and me with eyes that held nothing but exhaustion and quiet devastation.
Angela slipped an arm around her waist. "Come on, sister."
Mira nodded once, numbly.
I fell into step on her other side—close enough that my arm brushed hers, close enough that she could feel my warmth without me needing to touch her yet.
She didn't speak as we walked. She simply leaned a fraction toward me, then toward Angela, as though she couldn't decide which side felt safer. Her breathing was shallow, her shoulders still trembling faintly.
Inside my chest, the dark satisfaction uncoiled wider than ever.
She had been stripped of everything tonight—husband, children, reputation, dignity. Every person who should have protected her had turned away. Every word of love or loyalty had been replaced with venom.
And now she walked between the only two people who hadn't condemned her.
Angela, who trusted me without question.
