12
Peter
She sways on her feet, her face chalk white, and I grip her other arm to steady her. She clearly knows who I am; she recognizes me.
“Don’t scream,” I say. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
Her hazel eyes look wild, and I know she’s not really processing what I’m saying. All she sees is a mortal threat, and she’s reacting accordingly. In another few seconds, she’ll either faint or become hysterical, and neither would be a good thing.
“Sara.” I make my voice hard. “I’m not here to hurt anyone, but I will if I have to. Do you understand? If you do anything to attract attention to us, people will die.”
The mindless panic in her gaze abates slightly, replaced by a fear that’s more rational, if not any less intense. I’m getting through to her.
It helps that I’m not bluffing.
“W-what d
