"Orion, what the hell does that mean?" Kaelen demanded, his voice cracking with strain. He pushed off the wall, closing the distance between us in two swift steps. "She's not pretending."
I glanced back at the closed door, where Seraphina's muffled sobs still reached our ears. "That paperweight," I said quietly. "She missed Ronan's head by exactly the right distance."
Ronan frowned. "So?"
"Don't you remember? Seraphina couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Remember how we used to tease her during those summer games?"
A muscle twitched in Kaelen's jaw. "That was years ago."
"People don't suddenly develop perfect aim after brain trauma," I insisted. "Something's not right."
Before either could respond, a crash from inside the room had us spinning around. Kaelen yanked the door open without hesitation.
Seraphina stood by the shattered remains of a mirror, blood dripping from her knuckles. Her eyes widened at our entrance, wild with what appeared to be genuine panic.
