Psycho knew something was wrong before anyone even started looking around the room for her.
The large room in Commune C had a rhythm by now. Even after the violence, even after the blood had been scrubbed from the floor and the bodies dragged away, the space had settled into a pattern that he could feel more than see.
No one dared to breathe too hard or shift their weight too obviously. Everyone who wasn't one of them moved slowly, quietly, just in case they did something worth death or touch something that didn't belong to them.
If the clerk had meant this place to be a special type of hell, then he greatly underestimated what the men would do to protect their center.
Now everyone had to learn the hard way.
And let's face it, Sera was always the constant in the center of everything.
Her presence didn't announce itself. It didn't need to. It sat in the room like a fixed temperature, something everything else adjusted around without conscious thought.
