SERAPHINA Seraphina had always believed that hate was a kind of fuel.That was how she had explained it to herself through all the years of building what she had built thanks to her dad, goddess rest his soul, through all the careful strategic climbing and the alliances made and broken and made again, through all the rooms she had walked into and assessed and decided how to own. Hate was not a weakness. Hate was not something that consumed you. Hate was something you burned cleanly and efficiently, like good wood, and it keeps you warm and moving and it was, she had always believed, entirely under her control.She believed this less now than she used to because it felt like nothing was under her control anymoreShe left in the early morning before anyone who mattered was awake to see her go.This was its own humiliation, the leaving in secret, the moving through corridors, the careful quiet exit through the back door of the motel like someone who had no business being there. Like som
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