Chapter Forty-One: Show Me Your Fangs

"You," he hissed, grabbing her roughly. His claws scraped her arms, drawing blood. "What did you just do to me?"

Nothing scared Velma more than the newly settling bloodlust in his eyes as he gazed upon her wound.

She took a step back, eyeing him warily. His eyes were flickering between orange and a deeper red. No one had to tell Velma to pick to her heels.

With each stride, she propelled herself forward with an urgency that bordered on desperation, as if the very essence of death itself was in relentless pursuit. The pounding of her heart echoed in her ears, the rhythmic thud matching the cadence of her racing footsteps. The wind, a gusting force of nature, whipped through her hair, tugging at the strands as if urging her to move faster.