Chapter 4 basement

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In a basement that smelled of bleach and iron, Selene tightened her gloves. A man lay strapped to the table, gagged, his eyes wild with fear.

She whispered softly, almost tender:
"You hurt women once, didn't you? Drunken hands. Rough laughter. You thought it was nothing."

The man shook his head violently. She ignored him.

Her scalpel gleamed.
"I'll give you something you could never give them—life."

The room filled with the sound of flesh parting, the hiss of suction, the low hum of surgical machines she had pieced together through black-market deals. On a tray beside her lay a jar—preserved uterine tissue.

She worked methodically. After 12 hours of surgery ,When the man flatlined, she sighed.

Sutures, grafts, injections. Always failing. Always trying again.

"Another failure. Another wasted body. Well it's not like it was useful when alive."

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