The ground shook and cut off Bree: the walls rattled; it was another earthquake; the marble vibrated beneath her; Bree covered her head as the chandeliers swung, but not much fell except small pieces of the ceiling and debris.
Bree glanced over at Skylar, who wasn’t ducking—she had her palm on the floor to listen. After another minute, the shaking stopped on its own.
“The earthquakes, it is getting worse,” Skylar said. “As Prexy, you do have a plan, correct?”
“A plan?” Bree replied, offended. She stopped ducking and groaned. “McDonough’s reign, my father’s reign, had always been uneventful, but now here I am, left with all the stupid issues—I will figure it out in time. But right now, tell me what you notice in this video.”
