Death to those who dare think lesser of her. Who grab her nape and press her face-first into her own mire of faults until she's drowned by them. Death to this man, who looks more and more like her crooked father the longer she glowers in his direction. His smile cuts slits into hardy cheeks, embodying his every detestation in what she's become. A dead weight. A failure.

I am not.

Carolina's finger flexes, green eyes turned inferno beneath hooded eyelids.

I'll kill you.

And killing him will be the best thing she's ever done.

What comes after doesn't matter. So long as she doesn't lose again.

Flint strikes frizzen, shaves iron to create a spark that catches gunpowder in its pan—

Bam!

An explosion from inside.

The noise is deafening.

Carolina's eyes are closed. She cannot look. Weak.