Skylar's POV
The air in this room was so thick, just like outside air feels when a storm's about to kick in. You know, all green-gray of sky, like electricity's just building and building? Heavy. I straightened up as the chill of the metallic wall caught my back, laboring for slow breaths. My aunt-well, Aunt Victoria-pacing in front of me, heels clicking against the floor, a metronome counting down to disaster.
"You don't understand, Skylar," she said, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "This isn't about you. It's about the future. The order.
My fists were clenched, the nails digging into my palms. "Order? You call turning people into puppets order? Aunt Vic, this isn't right, and you know it.
