Dank air roared in my ears as I plunged to the ground. Eyes widening over her shoulder, Lou bolted for the door. “Fu—” Her expletive ended in a shriek as I landed on top of her. Twisting onto her back, she clawed at my face, my eyes, but I seized her wrists and pinned them to the floor. When she continued to buck and thrash, I straddled her waist, broken glass tearing into my knees as we grappled. My weight kept her restrained, however. Immobilized. She smashed her head into my jaw instead. Grinding my teeth, I pushed my forehead against hers. Hard. “Stop it,” I snarled, flattening myself against her. The others descended the stairs in a cacophony of shouts. “What is wrong with you? Why are you running?”

“The cauchemar.” She struggled harder, panting feverishly. “It—it transformed into—into Thierry—” But the lie crumbled in her mouth as Thierry limped forward. In the shards of mirrors, his very real hatred refracted from every angle. His very real injuries. Coco followed, dropping to the floor beside us. She thrust her bloody forearm to the air above Lou’s mouth, the unspoken threat clear. “Don’t make me do it, Lou.”

Lou’s chest rose and fell rapidly beneath mine. Sensing the battle lost, she bared her teeth in a saccharine smile. “Is this how you treat a friend, Cosette? A sister?”

“Why did you run?” Coco repeated. No warmth lingered in her expression as she gazed at her friend. Her sister. Instead, Coco’s eyes glittered with frigid, impenetrable cold. The two could’ve been perfect strangers. No—enemies. “Why did you attack him?”

Lou sneered. “We all attacked him.”

“Not after we’d seen his face.”

“He startled me. Look at the state of him—”

At this, Thierry’s hands curled into fists. Beau winced at his purple fingers. “Perhaps we should return to the chapel, procure supplies,” he suggested. “You need medical attention—”

Herrrr, Thierry interrupted, the word strained, breathless inside our minds.

Célie gasped at the mental intrusion, her eyes flicking wildly between Thierry and me.

“Her, who?” I asked. “What happened to you?” My voice echoed too loud in the dilapidated room, my flushed cheeks and corded neck reflecting back at me in the broken mirrors. I looked unbalanced. Out of control. “Where have you been?”

But it seemed he couldn’t answer. Pictures flickered wildly again, each more incoherent than the last. When his black gaze fixed pointedly on Lou, my stomach plummeted. My hands turned to ice. Sick with trepidation, with regret, I spoke through gritted teeth. “Tell me, Thierry. Please.”

He moaned and slumped against the balustrade. Her.