Round 182

The temperature spiked again—easily fifty degrees above normal now, maybe more. The air grew thick enough to taste, musky and sweet and cloying, filling Abby's mouth when she breathed in. Behind them, the floor groaned like a dying animal. "I understand the parameters fully," Jeane hissed back at Hera, voice barely controlled silk over grinding teeth. Her grip tightened on the human woman's wrist until bone should have creaked under that pressure, but Hera didn't flinch. Stupid brave bitch. "You think you can command me? The contract is binding, little human. Every second wasted adds to your penalty." Her words vibrated something in the air itself—Abby felt it prickle across her skin like static electricity. The temperature spiked again. Fifty degrees above normal now? Sixty? It was hard to think straight through the haze of heat and pheromones thick enough to choke on. Behind them, Silra's voice broke through the haze. "Forty minutes past our timeline. Structural failure is imminent."