PREVIEW

... cles tensed.

I was standing. I wasn’t lying on the ground bleeding out anymore. I wasn’t gored by the claws of a wolf.

I was wearing my cardigan again. Jeans. I was me.

What a disappointment—to die after exerting every ounce of my will, to finally be done, only to be reminded that this was all a sick game.

Silas, the mechanical showman, stood about fifteen feet away, the front of his box pointed directly at me in the clearing.

There were no wolves. Kimberl ...

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