As Adelynn stared into Mishal’s face, she was certain that she was about to die. She’d been certain of her death before, yet had somehow always managed to escape. But now, tied up, weak and wounded, she couldn’t see any way out of the Firewalker’s clutches. She was going to die. She was certain. There was little point in believing otherwise.
But still, she clung to hope. To the possibility that she would, somehow, survive Mishal. That she would live to find Myrna once again and make good on her promise to kill her.
I can’t die until then, Adelynn told herself. I can’t fail Myrna. Or the memory of Brelon.
Resolved to try to find a way out of this Firewalker’s clutches, Adelynn cleared her throat and looked at Mishal’s dark eyes....
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