"Bitch?"
The whispers were a venomous tide, and Orson was the snake charming them. The word bitch hung in the air, a foul stench more offensive than the zombie rot they'd just escaped.
Sienna stopped, the cigarette still dangling on her lips. The entire world seemed to narrow to the man who had spoken.
Everyone fell silent, watching her while holding their breath.
Those who knew her now knew the kind of person she was—sharp, cold, and did what she wanted. If she decided to kill you, you wouldn't live. She wasn't one of the strongest, or even the strongest in this hotel, for no reason. She had a spear and a gun, and even her little sister was a strength bomb.
