Emma's breath snapped back into her lungs.
She jerked against Brandon's hold, a sharp gasp tearing out of her as the vision shattered. Her fingers were still locked in his shirt, trembling now, like her wolf hadn't realized it was over.
"It wouldn't come off," she whispered, more to herself than to him, her voice thin, strained. "The mask… it wouldn't come off."
Her eyes lifted slowly, unfocused at first, then sharpening with something deeper.
Frustration.
"I was close," she said, swallowing hard. "I know I was close."
Brandon's grip tightened around her, steady and grounding, but his gaze had already darkened.
"Then next time," he said quietly, "we will make sure you go further."
She shook her head immediately.
"No." Her fingers curled again, tighter this time, as if she could still feel it slipping away.
"Something was holding me back."
Silence slipped between them, tight and listening.
When she spoke again, her voice dropped, quieter, steadier, edged with certainty.
