đŠ ALTHEA
The silver moths hovered in the air like a living constellation, their wings catching moonlight and throwing it back in razor-sharp fragments.Â
One command. That was all it would take.
One whisper from me and the brigade would fall. Every gamma, every soldier, every wolf who had chained and beaten and brutalized the Vargans for decadesâthey would choke on their own blood as silver dust filled their lungs and stopped their hearts mid-beat while they all clawed at their throats.
It was the justice that I craved since I was old and conscious enough to see what was truly happening the allied-packs.Â
The moths trembled, responding to the dark want curling through my chest. How easy it would be. How satisfying to watch them suffer the way they'd made others suffer. To finally, finally balance the scales that had been tipped toward cruelty for so long.
My fingers twitched and in response, the moths dipped lower.
