- Sloane Pierce:
The quiet in my house felt heavier than usual, like the walls themselves were holding their breath. Since the front door clicked shut behind us, the sound seemed to echo down the hallway, a sharp reminder that I'd just let Roxy into my private space. I still had my hand wrapped loosely around her arm as I guided her further inside.
Her eyes were red and glassy, lashes wet from the pepper spray, her cheeks blotched pink. She had stopped coughing, but she still blinked rapidly, her face tilted slightly down like the light hurt.
I didn't know where to put her, or what to do with myself. It felt surreal—Roxy, in my house.
Just the two of us. Alone. She looked completely out of place, this wild thing in leather and boots standing in the soft beige hush of my living room.
Her helmet dangled from one hand; the creak of her jacket sounded almost too loud in the stillness.
