We stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a soft ding that felt louder than it should in the heavy silence. The small space immediately filled with too many bodies—Jayden at the front, broad shoulders blocking most of the panel; Lorena beside him, still pinching her nose with a faint grimace.
Gabriela close behind, thighs pressed so tightly together I could see the faint tremble in her legs; Julie beside her, composed but radiating that quiet, predatory satisfaction; Yuko under my arm, small frame supporting my weight like it was her sacred duty; and Ema on my other side, mirroring Yuko's position, her cheek almost brushing my shoulder as she tried not to look at anyone.
I leaned heavily into Yuko—enough to make it look convincing—my left arm draped around her shoulders, fingers resting lightly on her collarbone. Her damp hair brushed my wrist; she smelled like hospital soap and lingering guilt.
