The rage consumed me, a dark crimson haze washing over my vision as I thrashed against the men who pinned me to the dirt. Their sweat-slicked hands gripped my wrists tighter, fingers digging into my flesh like claws, but I barely felt the pain anymore. All I knew was the building fury, the same primal thing that had taken over when I'd slashed Vincent's throat.
"Hold the bitch down!" Devon barked, his pants now halfway down his thighs.
My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood as I silently reached for that dark place inside me—that hidden corner of my soul where something dangerous and ancient slumbered. It had answered once before, the night I took my revenge. I needed it now, more than ever.
A strange prickling sensation crawled across my skin, spreading from my chest outward. The warriors must have felt something too—an electric charge in the air, a subtle shift in the atmosphere—because their hands faltered for just a moment.
