Page 277 of Redfang Royal


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I was never a monster.

Just a girl who wanted to survive.

Finally free of the lies and shackles, I bleed my perfume.

The Orlovs are just skeletons wrapped in jerky. Faded nightmares with no power, now that I’m face-to-face with the truth.

I pop their air tubes, triggering frantic alarms and trading their pumped oxygen for the death they deserve.

Seems anti-climactic.

No choke or retch or death rattle to confirm they’re gone.

Should I slit their throats?

Just to make sure?

Before I can source a scalpel, something else cuts the cord.

With a cataclysmic snaaaap, their leftover soul-hooks disintegrate. The backlash hits like a volcano planet, slingshotting my ribs.

White-hot air oofs from my pancaking lungs.

I lean into the whiplash like its phoenix fire.

Years of sludge cook off, leaving me light and free and finally comfortable breathing in my skin.

I’m finally me.

For two glorious seconds, I’m the Marisol I was always meant to be.

Then I start to boil.

My temperature spikes beyond volcano—lava surging through my veins and pooling in the pit of my belly.

So.

Freaking.

HOT.

Almost like—

No fucking way.

My heat? This soon?

No no no.

Not here. Fissures will toss me behind bars with a fresh pack of nightmare alphas.

I have to get off base.

I’m not doing this without my Meadows.

Alarms blare.

But they’ve been blaring.

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