When Liberty reported in the next day, Jane’s meeting chamber had been cleaned up. Jane was painting her nails again, black this time. The nails had been clipped short to fix the jagged edges from yesterday’s episode. Several of Jane’s henchmen hung about in the corner, smoking and playing cards, while Stella, leaning against the wall behind Jane, chewed on a toothpick.
For a moment, Libs felt bad, the emotion curling up as something frigid and cold in his gut. He’d forgotten about Stella, that she might have been the one to bear the brunt of Jane’s rage yesterday. It could have been her, and he hadn’t warned her to steer clear. They owed each other that much, simply for both being the reluctant minions of a madwoman. They understood one another’s situation and knew what it was like to fo
