“Try anything and I’ll make that pretty face of yours a little less pretty.” Zora removed the barrel of the gun from the back of Dorothy’s neck, but she kept the thing trained on Dorothy’s head as she moved around to her other side.

Dorothy bit back her disappointment. She was used to this feeling, after all. She couldn’t think of a day in her life when some form of aching loneliness hadn’t plagued her. Even when Roman had been alive, she’d been well aware that the rest of their gang had only tolerated her out of fear.

But she wouldn’t have anyone pity her. She may not have a friend in this world, but she did have some pride.

“I’m not sure it’s possible to make my face any less pretty,” she murmured, a poor attempt at a joke. She motioned to the scar that cut across one of her eyes and curled into the corner of her mouth.

Chandra released a surprised laugh. Dorothy glanced at her, a flare of hope shooting through her chest, but Chandra had quickly recovered and gone back to studying the cards spread across the table before her, brow furrowed, all traces of laughter scrubbed from her face. Willis met Dorothy’s eyes, but his gaze was chilly. It made Dorothy’s heart hurt.

She shouldn’t be so surprised by this less-than-warm welcome, she knew. In the year since they’d last seen each other, Dorothy had fallen out of a time machine, gotten her face carved up, taken over a bloodthirsty gang, and risen to the top echelons of power in New Seattle, becoming Quinn Fox: assassin, murderer, rumored cannibal. This had all been possible because of the (quite false) stories about what a violent monster she was, but Dorothy hadn’t been bothered about any of that. Power was power. She’d lived long enough without any of her own to appreciate it in whatever form she could get.

She and Roman had come up with the rumors about her viciousness to keep her safe, and they had no more truth to them than most fairy tales. But still, they’d stuck. People loved to tell horror stories.

Unfortunately, Dorothy found that they were less likely to tell the happy stories. Like how she’d tried to save the city. How she and Roman had restored electricity and brought back much-needed medical supplies, among other things. People seemed to prefer gruesome lies to the truth.