Dressed to Ruin

Then came a sharp jab to his ribs—Roth, elbowing him with classic say something, bro energy.

Finally, he spoke.

“Hello, Lyra.”

Her name sounded different in his voice. Low. Careful. As though he was tasting it, not just saying it.

She swallowed, willing her voice not to shake.

“Hi.”

Just that. Hi.

But her throat was dry, and her pulse wasn’