So that was the unfinished business you mentioned earlier, Rachel…?
…to bully Kiera?
I quietly backed away from the scene, not because I was afraid Rachel would catch me, but because I really didn't want to get involved.
Not when she was in that mood.
You know the one—the one where her tone was sweet, her smile gentle, but she was about five seconds away from metaphorically dropkicking someone through a wall.
Rachel stood there in the middle of the garden path like she owned the ground beneath her feet—arms folded, chin slightly raised, and a faint smile that sent shivers down spines.
Kiera, for all her wit and social sharpness, looked like a deer caught in an arcane spotlight. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
"Oh? Cat got your tongue?" Rachel mused, her voice sweet but wrapped in blades. "Or are you realizing that calling someone a loser repeatedly—even as a 'joke'—doesn't sound so cute when someone actually calls you out for it?"
