POV: Elias Beaumont
I slammed my fist into the wall, cracking the stone. Pain shot through my hand, but I welcomed it. Better than the guilt eating me alive.
Amara stood at the window, purple and blue light still dancing across her skin. Her father dead. Her mother gone. And I had helped cause it all.
"We need to move," I said, breaking the painful quiet. "Luther will have friends at the Blood Moon Pack. We can't let him warn them."
She didn't turn around. "Did you know?"
"Know what?"
"About the child." Her voice was hollow. "The one the Mother mentioned."
I swallowed hard. How could I tell her what Thalia had shown me? A vision of Amara holding a baby with midnight black eyes, standing in a field of bodies.
"Thalia showed me something," I admitted. "But visions aren't fate, Amara. They're signs, possibilities."
She finally turned, her eyes sparkling with that strange mixed power. "You should have told me."
