“Better than your tongue will be when I carve it from your mouth, girl.” Girl. As if that word was an insult. As if she didn’t owe everything she was to the girl she used to be. The girl who’d fought, the girl who’d held strong through so much pain and despair, never knowing if there was another side. The girl who’d tended to her cuts and bruises alone, but still always hoped. That girl was her fighting, bleeding, unwavering heart. And Revna owed it to her to fight.
