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Chapter 43: Strike and Fangs

Serine's POV

Locked in the tiny room with only a mattress and the dress she'd been wearing, Serine sat with her knees pulled to her chest. She'd spent most of her time in that position while her mind flipped from racing anxiety to cold hatred and back again.

Food was delivered irregularly, the old burned scraps she was accustomed to. Serine didn't know who was sliding the trays into her room, they never showed themselves and never returned for the empty ones. She ate methodically, keeping up her strength, and simply stacked the old trays in the corner as she waited, biding her time.

Something had shifted in Serine's mind. The rage and hatred had cooled into something else, something dangerous she couldn't identify. Her fingertips buzzed and a strange pressure grew in her head. Over the last few days of captivity, she'd begun exploring that pressure. She'd felt something similar once when she was very young, right before she'd first entered another person's mind.