Page 67 of Raven

My chest tightened. Each breath was a battle, lungs straining against ribs that felt like they were collapsing inward. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of damp stone and something metallic. Blood. My blood? Her blood?

Her eyes. Green, so green. Wide with ... what? Fear? Determination? Love?

Gone.

A sound escaped me. Low, guttural. It didn't sound human. It didn't sound like me. But it kept coming, tearing its way out of my throat until it filled the cell, bouncing off the walls, surrounding me.

My fingers scraped against the floor, nails catching on rough stone. I needed to hold onto something, anything. But there was nothing there. Nothing solid. Nothing real.

The chain rattled as I curled inward, forehead pressed to my knees. If I made myself small enough, maybe I'd disappear. Maybe I'd wake up again, and this time, that blissful moment of forgetfulness would last.

But I could still see it. The twist of his hands. The awful, final sound. The light fading from her eyes.

My stomach heaved. There was nothing to bring up, but my body tried anyway, convulsing, punishing me for ... for what? For not being strong enough? Fast enough? For not knowing?

The tears came without warning. Hot, relentless. They soaked into the fabric of my jeans, but I couldn't stop them. I didn't want to stop them. It was the only warmth in this cold place, the only thing that felt real.

I wanted to roar, to howl, to let my panther tear this place apart. But he was silent. Crushed under the weight of ... submission? Grief? I couldn't tell where I ended and he began anymore.

Time lost meaning. Had it been minutes? Hours? The ache in my body suggested the latter, but the ache in my chest ... that felt eternal.

My mother was dead and it was my fault.

My body heaved, the panther pushing at me. I scrambled, searching for something—anything. I hunched over a bucket inthe corner. There was just enough chain for me to get to it. I vomited.

When I was done, I crouched forward on my knees, putting my hands to the side of my head and trying to hold in the sobs that wanted to rip from my body. "Mum ..." Her name fell from my lips, from my heart, from my very soul. I clutched my head, almost digging my nails into the sides of my face in a way to hold it all together. I clenched my fists and my panther roared inside me.

He wanted out. He wanted to come out and protect me. He pushed and I didn't have it in me to fight him off. I didn't have it in me to fucking stop him.

The first crack of bone sent shockwaves through my body. I gasped, the air burning in my lungs. My skin crawled, stretching, tearing. Fur erupted, black as night, as my spine contorted.

I tried to scream, but it came out as a roar. My hands—paws now—scrabbled at the stone floor, claws scraping, searching for purchase. The chain bit painfully into my leg, the cuff digging into flesh and fur.

My senses exploded. The damp stone, the lingering scent of vomit, the metallic tang of blood—my blood—all assaulted my nose. Every shadow seemed to move, every tiny sound echoed like thunder.

The panther's instincts flooded my mind. Danger. Trapt. Escape. But there was nowhere to go. My bones shifted and reformed, a sickening crackle filling the air.

As the transformation took hold, my clothes became a prison. Fabric constricted, tangled, suffocated. With a snarl, I twisted, clawing at my own body. My newly formed paws raked across my chest and legs, shredding cloth and skin, desperate to free myself from these human constraints.

Threads snapped and seams split under my frantic assault. I writhed on the cold stone floor, rolling and thrashing untilfinally, mercifully, the last scraps fell away. Tattered remains of my shirt and jeans lay scattered around me, reeking of fear and grief.

I stood, shaking out my fur. My body hadn't grown larger, but reshaped—sleek, powerful, four-legged. The chain still dragged behind me, the cuff biting into my leg just above the paw.

A keening sound escaped my throat, caught between a roar and a wail. I couldn't tell if it was me or the panther.

I lunged at the door, shoulders slamming against unyielding metal. Again. Again. Pain blossomed, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. I clawed at the walls, at the floor, shredding my paws, leaving smears of blood.

Exhaustion eventually won out. I collapsed, sides heaving, tongue lolling. But even as my body stilled, my mind raced. Images flashed—green eyes, a twisted neck, a final breath. The panther didn't understand, couldn't comprehend the loss. He only knew pain, and the need to make it stop.

Darkness took me. In my dreams, it wasn't just my mother. It was Tia's. My soon-to-be mate. She called my name, urgent, pleading. It pulled at me, dragging me from the depths. My panther stirred, recognising her, reaching for the child inside her.

I clawed my way back to consciousness. Human again. Naked. Cold. The stone floor bit into my skin.

"I'm glad you're finally awake. You've been driving the pack crazy."

I cracked my eyes open. The man who claimed to be my father stood there. My mirror image, older. Half my genetics. But not my father. Never my father.

"I see you inherited my ability too." When I didn't move, he leant forward, his green eyes piercing. "You can feel everything, can't you? Feel what everyone feels. Their needs, their wants."

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