Page 42 of Inside the Sun

But Anzo keeps going. Relentless.

"I was even thinking, if Sun’s some kind of new species, a rose alpha, maybe there’s a purple omega out there for him? Wouldn’t that be poetic?"

He smiles. That same twisted grin.

Is this worth it?

Yeah.

It is.

Fuck the manners, fuck the submission.

"You’re a fucking piece of shit, Anzo," I say flatly.

The next jolt of electricity hits me so hard it feels like my entire nervous system lights up like a Christmas tree in white-hot agony.

My back arches violently, mouth open in a silent scream—

And then I black out.

Just like that.

***

When I come to, I’m still in the chair. At the fucking table.

My head’s slumped back over the edge of the high-backed seat, neck exposed, jaw slack, saliva dripping.

It takes me a few seconds to even remember where I am. Or who I am.

My arms and legs feel like they’re full of static, muscles locked tight, trembling with leftover current like I’ve been pulled straight out of an electric storm. Also, my neck hurts. The collar feels almost hot. My skin smells burnt.

Voices hum around me. The conversation hasn’t even stopped.

Anzo is talking. Laughing, maybe. His tone is light. Casual. Like nothing just happened. Like frying someone half to death at dinner is the most normal goddamn thing in the world.

I glance down.

There’s a wet patch spreading across the front of my pants.

Dazed, I just stare at it. It takes my brain a few seconds to even register what it means.

I pissed myself.

And that’s when it really hits me: how fast life can flip on you. How a day that started off ordinary, even kind of nice, can go completely to hell without warning.

Like the second act of some twisted play you didn’t audition for.

I sit there in silence, surrounded by these monsters dressed like people, and realize the person I hate most in the world right now… is me.

People say life teaches you things. That every bad experience has a lesson buried in it somewhere. That you’re supposed to grow from pain. Get smarter. Become wiser.

But some of us get the whole fucking curriculum dumped on our heads all at once. In one brutal, concentrated dose. A bitter pill.

That’s where I am in my life now. But I’m not swallowing that shit.

Not yet. I lift my head, throat raw, voice rough as gravel.

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