PART 3 Gregory’s face drained of every drop of color, his mouth opening and closing like a fish stranded on a dock.
“President… Cross?” he stammered, his eyes darting frantically between my paint-drenched hair, the blood pooling on my forearm, and the rigid figures of the Board of Regents standing behind Oliver. …
PART 3 Gregory’s face drained of every drop of color, his mouth opening and closing like a fish stranded on a dock. Read More