Inside the hut, Ocean's hands trembled as he tucked the tattered blanket tighter around Moon's still form. His pulse thundered in his ears, nearly drowning out the storm raging in his chest.
Rage.
Despair.
Guilt.
It all mixed like poison in his bloodstream.
They took her fangs.
They took her fangs.
That act alone was more than desecration—it was annihilation. A vampire's fangs were part of their soul, their identity. Ripping them out was a message. A warning. A death sentence.
He gently gathered her in his arms, resting her fragile body against his chest, and tucked her head beneath his chin. She felt weightless, limp... like she'd been drained of everything that once made her who she was.
His Moon.
The stubborn, fiery woman who argued with him over the most trivial things. Who kissed him like the world was ending. Who could silence his raging storms with a single glance.
