"I..." Avery's words froze in her throat, the weight of the moment crashing down on her. The Puppet Master's hand stayed outstretched, an offer and a threat wrapped in one move.
In that millisecond of doubt, images flooded across Avery's head like a fevered dream.
She was seven again, seeing her father walk away for the final time. The pain of desertion, raw and fresh, tore at her heart.
Then she was fourteen, standing over her first target. The weight of the rifle in her grasp, the chilling understanding that this moment would affect her forever.
Faces spun in her mind's eye - Lucas, Damien, Elena. The family she'd made at Blackthorn, the individuals who trusted her to lead them.
With a quivering breath, Avery backed back from the Puppet Master's stretched hand. "No," she replied, her voice rising louder. "I won't be another one of your pawns."
