Luthra woke up to pain grinding through his arms, his chest, his soul.
He sat up and looked at his right arm, where a black serpent coiled from wrist to shoulder. It wasn't ink but part of his skin now, feeling both cold and alive under his fingers.
The forest floor was a ruin around him, Shrieker bodies torn apart with a brutality that made his stomach turn. He remembered everything - the rage, the laughter, the absolute power coursing through him, and the terrifying joy he'd felt while using it.
'I lost control. Completely.'
Then he saw her.
Rebecca was huddled at the base of a tree fifty feet away, curled into a tight ball with her arms wrapped around her head. She was trembling like a leaf in a storm.
He pushed himself to his feet, his broken arms protesting with fresh agony. He took one careful step toward her.
"Rebecca."
