Sonya dashed toward the severed hand. She glanced around, scanning her surroundings to see if anyone was watching. She regretted what she'd done—she shouldn't have run. Walking casually would've drawn less suspicion. But it was too late now.
Fortunately, no one seemed to be looking her way. She crouched down and reached out to touch the severed hand.
A torn piece of a white coat was still attached to the arm. It was unmistakably Clyde's—Sonya clearly remembered him wearing that coat during his battle with Hades and Gabriel.
Her hand froze just before touching the pale fingers. Something in her instincts warned her—this wasn't a good idea.
But she knew she had to contact Clyde and Asqa, to find out what they were doing and to answer the questions swirling in her head.
"Shit! Why am I stuck in a situation like this?"
Still, what's done is done. Sonya shook her head forcefully, trying to clear the thoughts crowding her mind.
