He left the door open, one hand on top of it, and looked at us, his face like granite. His eyes on me made me realize just how disheveled Lazar and I both looked. Lazar was bruised and rumpled, the scratches from my claws on his shoulder now oozing blood. I was severely underdressed in nothing but a robe and another boy’s jacket. “Get in the car,” Caleb said to me. I’d never heard his voice so flat, so unreadable. I took the jacket off and shoved it into Lazar’s hands. “Lazar brought me the plans to the Tribunal’s new complex,” I said. My voice was as shaky as I felt. “I guess that makes everything okay then,” Caleb said, again so flatly that I almost didn’t recognize the sarcasm. Lazar didn’t put his jacket on, just gripped it tightly “Don’t blame Desdemona. I made her promise not to tell you about this meeting.” Caleb regarded him, contempt in the slant of his dark brows and the set of his mouth.
