Hermes stopped mid-sentence. Aphrodite tilted his head, puzzled.
The scent cut through the air like a knife — hot, coppery, unmistakable. Blood.
Hermes knew it too well. Too intimately.
"Something's wrong."
He bolted from the kitchen without another word, Aphrodite and the Grrberus pups running after him.
They rounded the corner into the living room…
And the sight that greeted them was not a pleasant one.
Apple sat on the couch, casually cradling Somner, teeth buried in his throat. Crimson streaked his chin, dripping down the side of his mouth in slow, obscene rivulets. Somner's body was limp.
Hermes wasn't just seeing it. He was seeing himself—his own face, his own body—feeding.
"No! GET OFF HIM!"
Hermes lunged, shoving Apple away, blood splattering across the couch cushions.
"Why?" Hermes snarled, grabbing his doppelgänger's collar. "Why would you do this?"
Apple only smiled, his lips glistening.
"He asked for it."
Hermes's glare hardened. "You're lying."
