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Chapter Twenty-One: An Urgent Plan

Ilryia clawed at the hands around her neck, her feet kicking out. She felt her face swelling with blood, her eyes streaming. She could barely see anymore, but she could see enough to know that that Dirk was no longer just Dirk. The strength in his one hand was terrifying. Her fingers could find no purchase on that iron grip. He squeezed tighter and a thought came to Ilyria of a twig snapping from a tree. He could kill her easily. But he was not done toying with her.

“You stink of him,” said the Dirk-thing. “You stink like a whore.” He grinned Dirk’s grin with the snaggle-tooth catching his lower lip, but his eyes were not Dirk’s. Not even close. They were blacker than a starless night. She felt her head buzzing and her vision faded.

She came to coughing and spluttering on the cold stone in front of Dirk’s boots. One boot reached back and almost in slow motion, it came toward her then connected with her jaw, sending her sprawling on her back. She heard a cry. She thou

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