Chapter 16 · Before Day Seven

Six days left.

Kira said it out loud this time. Stood in the middle of my apartment like she was delivering a weather report, except the forecast was my death and she couldn't even look me in the eye when she said it.

I sat on the couch. Didn't move. My hands were still shaking from last night—from the shadows, from the photo I'd pulled out of her burned sleeve before she could stop me. Mom's face in that picture. Baby me. And Kira, standing behind us like she'd always been there.

"Six days," I repeated. My voice came out flat. "You knew my mom."

She flinched. Good.

"Layla—"

"Don't." I stood up. My legs felt wobbly but I didn't care. "You've been sleeping on my couch for weeks. Eating my snacks. Pretending you just showed up to protect me because the Bureau sent you. And you knew her."

Kira's jaw tightened. She still had soot on her face from the fight, dark smudges under her eyes that made her look half-dead. "I was going to tell you."

"When? Day zero? Minute zero?" I laughed, and it sounded wrong. Too high. "What else are you hiding?"

She didn't answer.