Timothy's POV
The claws come during breakfast with Sophia.
One second, I'm holding a fork. The next, black claws pierce through my fingertips and clatter against the plate. Coffee spills across the white tablecloth.
"Timothy." Sophia's voice is carefully neutral. "Your wolf."
"I know." I force the shift back but it takes three tries. My hands shake as human nails replace claws. "Sorry."
"This is the third time this week." She dabs at the coffee stain with her napkin. "Your control is slipping."
"I'm handling it." I say.
"Are you?" She sets down her napkin. Her eyes are cool and assessing. "Because from where I'm sitting, you're barely holding yourself together."
I don't answer. Because she's right.
Kael is dying. I feel him fading a little more each day. Like a light slowly dimmin
