The sun had fully risen now, spilling gold across the square. But its warmth could not reach the hearts of those who stood there.
--
Peter did not breathe.
His son’s headless body lay crumpled in the dirt, blood seeping into the cracks of the platform’s ancient wood. The crowd was a blurred, faceless sea. The world felt muffled — like the air had been sucked from it entirely.
Then, slowly, the silence shattered.
Peter’s chest began to rise and fall in jagged bursts, the first sound a low, guttural growl that came from somewhere far deeper than his throat. It was the sound of a man breaking — and of the beast inside him clawing its way out.
“Heiko…”
“You… will pay…”
His voice was shaking, not from fear but from the sheer, burning rage that had taken root where his heart used to be.
