𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐀
His flesh parted cleanly. Red blood simmered with undertones of blinding gold, welling up dark and tainted with the same blackness that was consuming him from within.
I dove into action.
My clawed fingers burrowed deeper, parting muscle and tissue with a certainty that shouldn't have been mine. My mind was too calm, too focused—as if I had seen this play out before, as if my hands remembered a choreography my conscious mind had forgotten.
"What are you doing?" Zayne's sharp, commanding voice cut through the chaos.
I ignored him.
My claws pushed deeper into Cyrus's abdomen, searching. The blackness spread faster now; veins crawled toward his heart like living tendrils trying to choke the life out of him. I was looking for the implant—or whatever that thing was.
"Aurora, stop—" Zayne started again, but Kaleb cut him off.
"Let her work," he growled, his hands hovering uselessly over his brother's body.
