Chase’s POV
The traits came faster than any of us expected.
Jasmine’s first real slip happened during a nightmare.
I woke to her scream—high, sharp, cutting through the dark like glass. By the time I reached the nursery on crutches, she was sitting bolt upright in bed, eyes wide and silver-bright, small black claws fully extended from her fingertips. She stared at them in terror, breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
“Mommy—Daddy—they won’t go back!”
Amelia was already there, kneeling on the mattress, voice soft and steady. “It’s okay, baby. Breathe with me. In… out…”
I lowered myself to the edge of the bed—slow, careful not to jar the brace—and took one of Jasmine’s trembling hands in mine. Her claws pricked my palm, tiny pinpricks, but I didn’t flinch.
“Look at me, sweetheart,”
