He shook his head. “Not here. Not yet.”
“That’s not good enough!” I hissed. “You dragged me into this the second you showed up alive. I deserve to know!”
“I know you do,” he said quickly. “And I will tell you. But not where anyone can overhear.”
I looked around the bus. People were scattered in their seats, half-asleep, staring at their phones, minding their own lives.
Completely unaware that mine had just shattered for the second time in a week.
“Fine,” I said. “Then answer me this. The paramedics… the hospital… the funeral… was all of that fake too?”
“Not entirely,” he said. “The collapse was real. The reaction was real. But from the moment those ‘paramedics’ arrived… everything was controlled.”
“They took you,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“And the body?” My voice cracked. “Who did I bury?”
