Everly's brain went into full panic mode, frantically flipping through her mental catalog of lies like someone searching for a specific file in a disaster zone of paperwork.
Which lie is he talking about?! The fake pregnancy? The quintuplets that don't exist? The quadruplets I accidentally adopted for fourty minutes? My weirdly intimate friendship with Jeremy that makes three of us look like we're starring in a low-budget love triangle drama?!
But while her brain was still buffering like a frozen computer, her mouth—operating on pure autopilot and zero survival instinct—confidently answered:
"Yes."
"....?"
The silence stretched so long Everly could practically hear thrilling music playing in the background.
Cassian's fingers drummed against the gun in his lap with the slow, methodical rhythm of someone mentally calculating bullet trajectories.
