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The Discarded Heiress Owns The Wasteland
img img The Discarded Heiress Owns The Wasteland img Chapter 6
6 Chapters
Chapter 7 img
Chapter 8 img
Chapter 9 img
Chapter 10 img
Chapter 11 img
Chapter 12 img
Chapter 13 img
Chapter 14 img
Chapter 15 img
Chapter 16 img
Chapter 17 img
Chapter 18 img
Chapter 19 img
Chapter 20 img
Chapter 21 img
Chapter 22 img
Chapter 23 img
Chapter 24 img
Chapter 25 img
Chapter 26 img
Chapter 27 img
Chapter 28 img
Chapter 29 img
Chapter 30 img
Chapter 31 img
Chapter 32 img
Chapter 33 img
Chapter 34 img
Chapter 35 img
Chapter 36 img
Chapter 37 img
Chapter 38 img
Chapter 39 img
Chapter 40 img
Chapter 41 img
Chapter 42 img
Chapter 43 img
Chapter 44 img
Chapter 45 img
Chapter 46 img
Chapter 47 img
Chapter 48 img
Chapter 49 img
Chapter 50 img
Chapter 51 img
Chapter 52 img
Chapter 53 img
Chapter 54 img
Chapter 55 img
Chapter 56 img
Chapter 57 img
Chapter 58 img
Chapter 59 img
Chapter 60 img
Chapter 61 img
Chapter 62 img
Chapter 63 img
Chapter 64 img
Chapter 65 img
Chapter 66 img
Chapter 67 img
Chapter 68 img
Chapter 69 img
Chapter 70 img
Chapter 71 img
Chapter 72 img
Chapter 73 img
Chapter 74 img
Chapter 75 img
Chapter 76 img
Chapter 77 img
Chapter 78 img
Chapter 79 img
Chapter 80 img
Chapter 81 img
Chapter 82 img
Chapter 83 img
Chapter 84 img
Chapter 85 img
Chapter 86 img
Chapter 87 img
Chapter 88 img
Chapter 89 img
Chapter 90 img
Chapter 91 img
Chapter 92 img
Chapter 93 img
Chapter 94 img
Chapter 95 img
Chapter 96 img
Chapter 97 img
Chapter 98 img
Chapter 99 img
Chapter 100 img
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Chapter 6

Casey stood on a ridge of red rock. Behind her was a barren wasteland. Ahead, a dark, dense jungle loomed.

A drone, Echo-7, hummed to life above her head. Its camera lens locked onto her face.

She ignored it. She walked toward the edge of the jungle, finding a spot on higher ground, sheltered from the wind.

She dropped her backpack. She pulled out the broken tent. The waterproof coating was peeling off in strips. It was useless as a shelter.

She grabbed the fabric and ripped. The sound was loud in the quiet air. She tore the tent into long, sturdy strips of cloth.

She looked at a large, dead tree. The roots formed a natural hollow. Perfect.

She knelt on the hard, rocky ground. She didn't have a shovel. She used her hands. She curled her fingers into claws and started to dig.

The soil on A13 was hard. Packed clay and sharp stones. It fought back.

Her nails cracked. The skin on her fingertips tore. Blood mixed with the dirt.

The live chat was active again. Gross. She looks like a dog digging a grave. Pathetic.

Casey didn't feel the pain. She kept digging. Rhythmically. Efficiently. The pile of dirt behind her grew.

A sharp beep came from her wrist. A red light flashed. A holographic screen popped up. Director Quinn's face appeared.

"Casey," Quinn said, his voice arrogant. "I'm getting immense pressure from General Richmond's people. He is strongly suggesting you withdraw for your own good. Tap the withdrawal button now. Stop embarrassing yourself and upsetting Coralie."

Adolphus. The name triggered a flash of memory. Her past self, kneeling in the rain, begging this man for a crumb of attention. Him kicking her away.

A wave of nausea rolled through her stomach. Her eyes went cold.

The chat was going crazy. The General is so protective! True love!

Casey looked up. She stared directly into the drone's camera. Her face was smeared with dirt and blood. Her eyes were dead.

"Tell that self-righteous idiot," she said, her voice clear and steady, "to take his white lotus and get the hell away from me."

She raised her middle finger. "Son of a bitch," she said flatly.

The chat froze. The internet broke.

Quinn's face on the screen went pale. He fumbled with the controls and the call cut off.

Casey hit the mute button on her wristband. Silence. She shook the dirt off her hands and went back to digging.

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