Lyra stood her ground in the Covington family's expansive courtyard. The gray clouds overhead matched the tension crackling in the air. Six security guards formed a tight circle around her, their faces grim and purposeful. She counted each one, assessing her odds. They weren't good.
Jasper stepped forward, his expression a mix of frustration and what almost looked like concern. "Lyra, please. Just leave now while you still can."
His voice dropped to a whisper. "I can't control what happens next."
Lyra's laugh was sharp and bitter. "Now you care? After setting your dogs on me?"
"I'm trying to help you," he insisted, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair.
"He really is," Orla added, appearing at Jasper's side. Her hand rested protectively over her stomach, her eyes wide with false concern. "Things could get ugly. We don't want that."
The lie was so transparent Lyra almost admired the audacity. Almost.
