EMBER’S POV
The memory rises sharp and ugly.
How easily he dragged me across the snow. How hell-bent he was on keeping those hands wrapped around my throat until he choked the last breath out of me.
He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t show even a flicker of the remorse he’d performed so convincingly for Harrison’s audience.
The moment he had the chance, he tried to end me.
Any pity I might have felt dies a quiet death in my chest, replaced by something colder. Something hungrier. Something that tastes like revenge.
“Trying to escape?”
My voice echoes off the concrete walls, and Gale’s head snaps up so fast I hear his neck crack.
The scraping stops. His one functioning eye finds me in the dim light, and I watch with deep, visceral satisfaction as fear ripples across what’s left of his face.
