Maryelle’s POVA sharp inhale breaks the moment. Rita stirs, fingers twitching against the ropes, her body caught in the haze of semi‑consciousness. The sound of her breath is jagged, uneven, pulling us all tighter into the moment. “You’re such a bitchy, violent ogre skank,” she moans, her hand pressed over the spot where my fist landed earlier. “Hey, you’re awake,” Edison murmurs, his forehead pressed to hers, his hands cupping her cheeks with reverence. “We’re about half a mile from the place,” I say, to no one in particular, my voice clipped, brittle. “Can you pull over on the side of the road?” Edison asks. “I need a moment with my girl.” I nod, easing the car to a stop. “Don’t go too far,” Phantom mutters, his gaze sharp, distrust etched into every line of his face as he eyes both Rita and Edison. Uncomfortable silence fills the cabin. Phantom taps the dashboard absentmindedly, the rhythm like a ticking clock, each beat a reminder of time slipping away. “So which
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