Page 56 of Filthy Royal

But Egan ignored her questions, lost to his growing bloodlust as he stalked closer, his voice deepening to a menacing growl. “I don’t usually like to be told what to do, but in this case… I’ll enjoy every brutal moment, prize.”

He launched himself at her.

She screeched in rage and terror, her hands flying up to ward him off.

A searing wave of heat erupted from her, shimmering across her skin before exploding from her palms. It was a violent, monstrous streak of black, hotter than any flame and more potent than any laser.

Egan flew backward, his eyes white with shock, mouth open wide. But no sound emerged.

He landed on the floor, unmoving, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles.

Reeling, Scarlett remained frozen where she was.

Egan was dead.

She’d killed him.

There were no visible cuts or burns on his body, but she knew what had happened all the same.

She’d ended him with the monstrous black rage that seethed inside her, stripping him of all color and vitality, just as he’d tried her whole life to do to her.

She stared at her palms, awareness taking hold.

Her gift was evolving.

It—she—was no longer just a cute, shimmering thing. Ever since her first encounter with Damien, the power inside her had intensified by leaps and bounds. And now, it had killed.

She should have felt horror.

Instead, a glorious sense of power thrummed through every cell.

Was this the glory Damien sought? The knowledge that she had the power to make her own way. Fight her own battles. Choose her own course.

If so, she understood him in a way she never had before.

She glanced at Egan’s motionless body.

She would never regret the bully’s death, but as the glow of her victory receded, the reality of her situation hit hard.

A prize had killed a Consortium handler.

Her life was forfeit—unless she ran before anyone discovered what she’d done.

Or she covered it up.

She had to find Damien. Tell him everything. Together, they would make a plan.

He would understand. He would help.

They’d both made mistakes, but they were still a team.

Giving the body a wide berth, she charged for the door—only to have it slid open with a crash.

She skidded to a halt, her breath leaving in a rush, the tiny ember of hope that had flickered dying as a familiar figure filled the doorway.

“Going someplace?” The male’s broad shoulders blocked her path.

She raised her hands, trying to propel the black from her palms once more, but nothing emerged.

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