I don't look up. I stare at the scratches, not giving him anything.
He taps the file. "He called us, you know."
The words hit low and sharp. My breath stutters once before I clamp it down.
The man continues, "He invited this. He knew what he did to you was wrong."
I lift my eyes slowly, fixing them on his face. My voice stays even despite the burn in my chest. "I want my attorney."
His smile tightens. "Already?"
"Yes."
He leans back, irritation flickering. "You sure you want to play it that way?"
"I want my attorney."
A beat passes. He closes the file with a soft snap. "Fine. You have one, or do you want one assigned to you?"
I wrack my mind, but no one seems safe. "Assign me one."
He rises. "Have it your way. Sit tight."
The guard returns me to the cell without a word. The door slams shut, vibrations rattling my bones. I pace again, four steps forward, four back, because stopping makes the room shrink.
Minutes crawl, and time loses shape. The eyeliner woman keeps glancing at me, her curiosity sharpening. "You look like you bit someone important."
I glare at her.
A different guard appears and calls out, "Blue Ivanov."
My stomach drops. I step forward, and he leads me into the same room. I enter, and relief hits me.
Demi sits across from the man who previously questioned me, her posture tight, eyes bright with worry.
"Thank God you're here!" I blurt out.
"Don't say anything else," Aunt Kora's voice commands.
I spin.
She stands in the corner, her arms crossed, eyes full of concern. But then she pins them on the man sitting across from Demi, like she's a killer attack dog. "You can go now."
He gets up.
"And uncuff my client."
He glances at her, then obeys.
I rub my wrists.
"Make sure the cameras and microphones are off," she orders.
He says nothing, leaves, and shuts the door.
"Why is she here?" I demand, gazing at Demi.
Demi's mouth tightens. "I brought her."
