Mia's eyes narrowed as Rachel's words hung in the air, sharp and deliberate: "Have you checked the incinerator?" The tone wasn't just casual—it was laced with triumph, with the kind of malice that slithered into her bones and provoked something she had long fought to keep contained. Mia's knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists at her sides, the air around her suddenly feeling heavier, tighter, like a drumbeat echoing in her chest.
She stared at Rachel, her gaze icy and unflinching, her entire being trembling with an emotion that had been simmering for hours: anger. Pure, unrelenting fury. The kind that had been carefully contained, mastered through years of training, suddenly surged like wildfire breaking free from its cage.
