Ravyn
The moment Valerius’s grip tightened around her throat, something inside Ravyn snapped. Not broke—transformed. All the fear, all the months of running and hiding and being everyone else’s pawn crystallized into pure, burning rage.
She was done being a victim.
“You want to see what a hybrid can do?” she snarled, her voice carrying harmonics that made the ancient trees around them shiver. “Let me show you.”
Power erupted from her core like a dam bursting. Not vampire speed or werewolf strength, but something that was uniquely, purely her own. Her grandmother’s Celtic pendant blazed with silver light, and suddenly Valerius’s grip on her throat felt as fragile as paper.
Ravyn twisted in his grasp with fluid grace that defied physics, her elbow driving into his ribs with enough force
