On camera.
I could practically hear the narrative clicking into place for everyone watching: this is what she really is.
I stepped forward, hands up, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Victoria. Put it down. Right now.”
She glared at me like I was the intruder.
“You’ve been a problem since you moved in, Riley Castellanos,” she said, enunciating my name as if it tasted bitter. “You think you can turn this neighborhood into—into—”
She stopped herself before she said the word she wanted.
She didn’t need to say it for me to hear it anyway.
I’d been hearing it in her tone since my first week here.
I took another step, swallowing the metallic taste of adrenaline.
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