The leader's ultimatum hung in the warm room like frost that hadn't decided where to settle. Ten minutes. "Less polite." The two younger raiders kept shuttling whatever they could find from kitchen to door, wet boot prints laddering the floorboards. The fire popped; snow sifted in across the threshold and turned to bright dots on the rug.
Sera didn't move. But the creature inside her did.
It paced once, twice, then lay long down her spine with a low, impatient rumble. Count them. Count the beats. She breathed slow, in through her nose, out through her mouth. She could end this in seconds if she let go. She didn't need a weapon. She didn't need anything but the length of a heartbeat.
But the problem with that was that the sacrifice she made wouldn't be to the men with the rifles.
It would be made to the men on the couch.
