The word lingered, poisonous and intentional.
Ava stayed on the floor longer than she needed to. She felt the old switch flip inside her, the one that activated when fear would only get people killed. Her pulse slowed. Her thoughts sharpened.
She looked at Cassandra’s arm. No bruise. No injury.
Then she looked at her own hand, blood slick and dark against her skin.
“You pushed me,” Ava said evenly.