Chapter one hundred eighteen

Alina stood frozen in the middle of the massacre, her heart slamming against her ribs. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, and bodies—so many bodies—were strewn across the forest floor.

Some lifeless, some barely breathing, their expressions twisted in agony. Her stomach churned violently, bile rising to her throat, but she forced it down.

And then there were the stares. Heavy. Accusing. Like knives slicing into her skin.

She could feel it—the suspicion, the tension crackling in the air like a live wire. They were all looking at her like she had done this. Like she was some kind of monster.

"Alina, what the hell happened?" Dana's voice cut through the thick silence. Her usual sharpness was softened by concern, but her stance was rigid, ready for anything.

"How did you end up in the woods?"