Mousan stood paralyzed. His legs refused to move, his chest tight with an invisible weight. His lungs struggled for air, and yet all he could do was stare.
Stare at her.
Elmyra.
The woman he loved more than his own breath.
She was still looking at the corpse of Taylor's father, eyes locked on it like a predator frozen in place after a kill. Her face, eerily unchanged, bore no smile or frown…only stillness. But behind her eyes, a storm of hate and fury burned like molten iron. That hatred was not for the man she had killed… but for anyone who dared to touch what was hers.
Mousan.
Her body was no longer hers. It had begun to transform, rapidly, grotesquely, monstrously.
