Page 170 of Romancing in Rot

“You got yourself into this mess, Clair,” Russ says. “You always do.”

Poppy makes a tiny sound behind me.

My grip tightens on the chain link until the metal bites my palms. “Say one more thing like that in front of her.”

Russ steps closer. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll make what I did to your friends in the woods look polite.”

His mouth twists. “Still dramatic.”

“No,” I say. “Still alive. I know that disappoints you.”

His face flickers.

“Save her,” I say, each word steady and sharp. “If you have ever had one decent thing inside you, save your daughter.”

Russ’s eyes slide toward Poppy for barely a beat, then away. “You know I never wanted her in the first place.”

The world stops.

Poppy goes silent behind me. Not crying. Not breathing. Silent. The kind of silence a child makes when a wound goes too deep for sound.

Something inside me steps out of its own skin.

The old Clair might have folded. Might have absorbed the hit, tucked it somewhere soft, apologized for bleeding on the floor.

That woman is dead.

I spit in his face.

It lands on his cheek. Wet. Perfect.

A few people outside the cage laugh harder this time.

“That is the only honest thing you’ve ever said.”

Russ wipes his face slowly, rage blooming red up his neck. “You always were a nasty little bitch when you didn’t get your way.”

“No, Russ. I was a girl who learned to whisper because you punished me every time I had a voice.” I rattle the fence. “But look at that. I found it.”

His fingers flex.

I smile. Not kind. Not scared. “You want to know the funniest part? You spent years making me feel weak, and the second the world ended, you were the one who ran. You shot me, abandoned your daughter, and crawled into a mall full of monsters because they were the first people pathetic enough to make you feel useful.”

His nostrils flare. “Careful.”

“Why? Are you going to shoot me again? Better wait until I turn around. We both know that’s your favorite angle.”

The leader lets out a soft, delighted laugh.

Russ’s hand curls into a fist.

I lean into the fence. “Go ahead. Show them what kind of man you are.”

“You think you’re better than me now?” he asks.

“No.” My voice drops. “I know I am.”