slap landed. The sound was heavier this time, me

na said. Her voice was ice water

mascara running down her cheeks in black rivers. Her hair was a mess. She looked nothing

a's designer collar and yanked her close. The fabric t

rom Kiana's ear. "If you ever use their deaths as a

na felt her knees buckle. She had never seen this Elianna

nearly tripping over her own heels. She ca

y smear of lipstick. "Take your pictures," Elianna told them, her voice flat. "Show the world h

sight was ugly. She was pathetic, sniveling, and

wiped her face, smearing the mascara further. She tried a watery smile. "Sister... I know you're an

pivot. The victim

ybe she went too far," someone whispered. "S

They loved a slap, but they hated a bully. K

na said, her voice cutting through

beneath her feet. She opened her mouth to spe

isag

erly calm. It cut through the chaos of

. The reporters lowered their

of a United States Army officer. The dark green fabric was crisp, the buttons polished. Rows of ribbons adorned h

rity radiating from him was palpable. It

iercing, intelligent blue. He gave he

was him. This was Baldwin Armstrong. The man who was supposed to

ion was unreadable, but the look in his eyes w