Not Crying, Just Summoning Dust Allergies

Ronan was still in the corner.

It had only been like a minute, and the guy hadn't moved, despite everything going on. No shifting weight, no awkward fidgeting, not even an annoyed sigh—just standing there, as if the very concept of time meant nothing to him. It was honestly impressive in the worst possible way.

But I didn't have time to admire his dedication to the bit, because the sound of approaching footsteps snapped all of us back to reality.

Mara stiffened, eyes darting to the door. "Someone's coming."

"No kidding," I muttered, already scanning for options. We didn't have time to run. We couldn't hide. The bookshelves were too narrow, the room too open. We were about to be very caught.