Once he was out of everyone's sight, the mask finally crumbled.
Everything came crashing down all at once.
His legs nearly gave out. It wasn't tired—numb. Like they'd been holding on by sheer stubbornness and had finally decided they were done.
His heartbeat spiked. Loud. So loud he could hear it in his ears, drumming against his skull like it was trying to break free.
It had taken everything. Every last scrap of composure he had in that room. To keep his voice steady. To keep his hands still. To hold back the bloodlust that had been screaming behind his teeth since the moment he walked in.
And somehow—through dumb luck and a tongue that deserved its own monument—he'd walked out alive.
Just thinking about them made it worse.
His father and mother—they weren't human. Whatever sat behind that veil wore a human shape the way a wolf wears sheep's clothing.
