EMMA
The high-frequency hum was a physical needle in my brain, a thin, screaming wire that made the very air in the penthouse feel brittle. Gabriel was a wreck of muscle and agony on the floor, his spine arching with a sickening crack-pop as the wolf tried to tear its way out of the human casing.
I didn't run. I couldn't. The Silver Thread was a tether of pure fire, dragging me down into his pain. I knelt beside him, my hands hovering over his shaking shoulders.
"Gabriel, look at me!" I screamed over the electronic whine.
He turned his head, and I flinched. His face was halfway between man and beast—his jaw elongated, his forehead heavy, his skin a mottled, bruised purple. Those golden eyes weren't soulful anymore; they were twin suns of mindless, predatory hunger.
"Run," he managed t
