KAT
Blood Rights
The rage burns through me like acid, turning everything I touch brittle. Three hours since the bombing, and I can't stop seeing it—our sons in that wagon, blood crystal dome the only thing between them and shrapnel designed to shred infant flesh. Cyrill Westwood tried to murder my puppies at a funeral, and every cell in my body screams for his throat between my teeth.
"You need to eat." Yuki sets a plate in front of me, but food tastes like ash when I'm this angry. The boys nurse between us on the couch, their synchronized breathing the only thing keeping me from shifting and running straight to wherever that bastard hides.
Dave paces our living room, blessing-fire making his skin glow gold in afternoon light. Through our bond, his fury matches mine—Prime demanding blo
