The lead security guard stepped forward, flanked by two others. His voice was firm, cold, and final.
"Go put on your clothes."
Joren and Lana didn't speak. They simply nodded, eyes wide, towels clutched tightly around their bodies. The guards released them and stepped aside, allowing them to slip past and head toward the secluded changing alcove where they'd left their clothes earlier.
Inside the alcove, the silence between them was deafening.
Lana's hands trembled as she reached for her dress. Her fingers fumbled with the zipper, and she cursed under her breath. Joren sat on the bench, pulling on his shirt with jerky movements, his mind racing.
"I didn't think he'd actually do it," Lana whispered, her voice barely audible.
Joren didn't respond. He couldn't. His throat was dry, his heart pounding. He felt like he was shrinking inside his own skin.
She looked at him once, searching for something — comfort, maybe. But he was too far gone.
