EMMA
There was still a glow in my warm palm, pulsing softly like a second heartbeat.
There Nyx lay in the dirt a few feet away, blood on her lip, hair strewn wildly like some unhinged creature. She clutched her ribs, the sharp rise and fall of her chest speaking of defeat she hadn't been prepared to face.
I hadn't meant to go that far. I hadn't meant to win.
But I had.
With no training. No shift. No plan. Just… instinct. Just the strange silver light that had cracked from my bones like my soul had finally found a voice.
I blinked down at my hands as if I didn't recognize them.
"What did I just do…?" I murmured, breath fogging the air.
My wolf was quiet, but her presence pulsed with quiet pride as if she'd been waiting years for this moment.
(Guess we were never weak, Emma.) she whispered. (We just didn't know where your power lived.)
Nyx stirred with a soft groan. Her eyes met mine—and for the first time, there was no venom, no arrogance. Only disbelief.
