---
Sekhmet did not let the scene drift into chaos. Then he moved. Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just decisive.
He stepped to the fourth man. The one with the sack. The one who had been standing slightly back, pretending he was only "carrying goods" and not part of the cruelty.
Sekhmet grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him close.
The man's eyes widened.
"Wait…"
Sekhmet's fangs slid out. He bit to feed.
Warm blood hit his tongue. The man's body jerked once, then softened as the bite stole more than blood. It stole will. It stole strength. It stole confidence.
Sekhmet drank with control.
Not too much. Enough to taste the blood. Enough to lower the man's resistance so he could not run or scream.
Then Sekhmet pulled back. His eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight.
"Stop, otherwise they might die," he said.
Vera pulled away instantly, lips barely stained. Her posture snapped back into discipline as if she had never been hungry.
