She didn’t scream. She didn’t yell.
She simply walked closer. Slow. Graceful. Godlike.
And when she finally spoke, her voice was so cold it burned.
“You remember the last time I said yes to you?”
Jonas shook his head wildly, trembling like a child caught in a thunderstorm. But the shadows didn’t loosen. They pulsed tighter.
Kat stepped into the dim light, and I saw her eyes—not her usual emerald or Seckhmeth’s glowing gold.
But both.
Layered.
Timeless.
“You do,” she said, almost gently. “You always remember the things that make you feel like the victim.”
He started to protest. “K-Katie, I—”
“I was twelve.”
Her voice broke slightly, but not from weakness.
From control.
From the effort to not let the flood consume her all at once.
“You tricked me. Told me there were pups that
