I didn’t just "snap." I disintegrated.
The three omegas—a young woman with a torn cloak and two boys barely old enough to shift—stood frozen against the jagged obsidian pillars of the Old Ruins. Their scent hit me like a physical wave: salt, fear, and the warm, thrumming vibration of healthy Alpha-blessed blood. To my human mind, they were survivors. To the Hollow, they were nothing but three glowing batteries waiting to be drained.
"Elara... don't..." Silas’s voice was a wet rattle. He tried to reach for my ankle, but his fingers only left a smear of gray soot on my boot.
I couldn't look at him. If I looked at him, I’d see the man I was killing. If I looked at them, I’d see the victims I was about to create. So I looked at my hands. They were trembling so violently that my claws were u
