Firestone Hot Springs the tidal wave breaks

Saoirse has never been this hot in her life. The burning water sets each of her wounds screaming, and she recoils from the male seemingly in the same moment he releases her. She was busy thrashing her way to the surface, gasping in air against the rotten scent in her nostrils. The feeling of drowning is prevalent, but she has the sense of mind to flail back toward the shore.

By necessity she winds up shoving the male that way, too, but she doesn't care. Her wounds are ripped open, and she can barely drag herself out of the pool. She shivered in the open air, at the cold water pouring over her. Essie doesn't know how she was still moving; her tremors were just getting worse, but she hadn't yet collapsed.

A glance back showed her opponent barely awake, nearly dipping beneath the surface again. There was a part of her that hissed, good. She wants to walk away and let him drown.

Saoirse suspects that was her father talking.

Instead, she turned, as best she could; grateful he was at least still close to the edge, she reached for his scruff, used every ounce of strength she had left to drag him out. Her mouth felt full of liquid when she dropped him, but whether it was her blood or his, she couldn't be sure.

There, She panted, finally wavering and letting her legs collapse underneath her. Saoirse didn't even try to avoid falling on top of him, though her sense of the world was fading so quickly she couldn't be sure whether she had or not. Now even if you kill me, you have to go back and tell my father I'm nothing like him.

She was better than what she'd come from.