Page 120 of Ruthless Scoundrel
I have enough energy to heal, but everything is screaming for my attention. My octopus form will regenerate on its own over time, so I return to my selkie form. The water twists around me, and I send out a magic pulse, seeking any threats before I spend the time to heal.
My heart stops when my magic returns with a horrifying message.
Somethingenormousis coming up from below.
And it has teeth.
Chapter thirty-six
Reina
Jasper.
I use a concentrated blast of magic from my hands and feet, dodging the golem’s lumbering arm.
Jasper.
The fist slams down beside me with a crystalline tinkling that sends shards flying.
Jasper!
I scream as pain peppers my arms from the tiny shrapnel ripping open my skin.
Concentrate.
Survive.
Win.
Lances of broken crystal fly toward me and I jump back, barely avoiding them.
“If you’re not careful, you might accidentally kill me,” I shout.
I roll under a reaching grab and give the monster’s wrist a blast of fire. The scent of burning skin and black magic turns my stomach.
“If you die, you were never worthy to begin with,” the creature says with its many mouths. The sound is like the droning of bees, but worse. It makes me want to stab my ears just to never hear it again.
“Worthy—of being your daughter, or your vessel?” I snarl the word.
“You’ve never been more than athingto me,” the beast utters and something in me snaps.
It’s the last thread of hope.
Some childish part of me wished and begged for the love of my mother, that perhaps she was just misguided and all the evil she did was really her best intentions in disguise.
That part is dead now, and my path forward is clear.
She must die, because I won’t be herthing.
“Monster,” I roar, blasting the giant with narrow beams of heat. My shots pierce through the crystal at her top left shoulder. The arm rips away from the torso and sloshes off to the floor with a sickening slap.
I can dismantle her. Do I have enough power left?
“You are my shell, my way into this world. It was ordained centuries ago,” she goes on, and her next attack is sloppier.
Keep her talking, distracted.
“Centuries ago? Listen to yourself,” I say, dodging her sweeping arm. “You’re insane, Mother! You need help!”
