Chapter 138: The Blood on Her Hands
The next time it happened, it wasn't a dream.
It was real.
And someone died.
Bella woke to the scent of blood.
Thick.
Overpowering.
Fresh.
Her fingers were wet.
Sticky.
Her heart stopped.
Slowly—**terrified of what she might see—**she looked down at her hands.
They were covered in red.
Not hers.
Someone else's.
Bella's breath hitched.
"No."
She was in the woods.
Barefoot.
The cold night air biting at her skin.
She didn't remember leaving the packhouse.
Didn't remember walking here.
Didn't remember—
A body lay at her feet.
Torn apart.
Shredded.
Dismembered.
Bella's stomach twisted violently.
Her hands shook.
She staggered back, her breathing sharp, uneven.
"No, no, no—"
She felt sick.
Dizzy.
Because she knew this wasn't a mistake.
Wasn't a dream.
She had done this.
And she had no memory of it.
A voice echoed in her head, soft, familiar.
"You thought you were free?"
Bella's breath came in a sharp, broken gasp.
Because she recognized it.
She had heard it before.
In her nightmares.
"You can't get rid of me, Bella."
"I live in you now."
Bella fell to her knees, shaking.
Because she had won the battle.
She had burned the Hollow One.
She had survived.
But now?
Now she understood the truth.
The Hollow One had never died.
It had just found a new home.
And it was her.