Her eyes narrowed for a second, then she sighed dramatically. “But I was thinking…” she murmured. “What if people finally heard the truth? That you’ve been bullying me all this time?”
I snorted. “I don’t care enough about you to bully you. And I’m not interested in your little victim act.”
I bent down, grabbed my suitcase, and went back to packing. Shirts. Dresses. Anything I could shove inside fast.
But Elara wasn’t finished.
She glanced at my bedside table, then—without warning—picked up the lamp and slammed it onto the floor.
The glass shattered.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped, every instinct in me flaring.
Elara’s grin widened. “Just watch.”
Then she dropped down like a puppet with its strings cut and pressed both hands into the broken shards.
Blood welled instantly.
My stomach turned. “Are you insane?”
Elara threw her head back and screamed, loud enough for the entire floor to hear.
“I’m sorry, Lyra!” she sobbed. “It’s my fault, I swear! Hurt me if you have to, but please—please don’t leave the children!”
I stared at her, stunned.
“What is wrong with you?” I hissed.
The door flew open so hard it nearly hit the wall.