The war room smelled like fresh coffee and gun oil. All seven Guardians sat around the long table when Raven walked in. Her side still ached from the bullet graze last night, but she kept her face blank. She had cleaned up, changed into a simple black shirt and pants, and tied her hair back tight. Blood no longer stained her hands, but the memory of the three fires stayed fresh.
Vincent stood at the head of the table. He gave her a short nod and pointed to an empty chair near the middle. "Sit."
Raven sat. The Guardians watched her. Some looked curious. Others looked skeptical. Leonid crossed his arms and leaned back, eyes narrow.
