"You did well, zombie girl," Ross said, his voice unnervingly calm, almost casual, as if he were dismissing a trivial task rather than addressing a creature that had been hunting for her very life.
"Now go. You've served your purpose."
The words hit her like a physical blow.
He didn't need to move; his presence alone was enough to instill absolute, paralyzing fear.
She felt it settle in her chest, a crushing weight that made her limbs heavy and her thoughts scatter.
And then she fled.
Like a storm unleashed, she shot through the air, claws tearing at the space around her as if the speed could outrun the terror gripping her soul.
Her mind raced, a maelstrom of panic, confusion, and rage.
She had been strong, relentless, unstoppable—but now, for the first time since she had gained sentience, she knew the raw, bone-deep horror of being utterly powerless.
Every nerve screamed at her to run faster, to escape the inevitability of death that Ross represented.
