He was on his hands and knees, completely naked, chest heaving. His skin was covered in sweat and streaks of blood, his glasses gone and his hair a mess. And he was shaking so hard I could see it from where I was tied up. For a long second, neither of us moved. I just stared at him, mouth open, tears still dripping off my chin. My brain felt like it had short-circuited. The guy who had been living in my house. The guy I slapped in the hallway. The guy who left food for me every night even when I treated him like shit. That same guy had just turned into a seven-foot monster, torn two kidnappers apart, and then shifted back right in front of me. “Miles…?” I whispered, voice hoarse and shaking. He slowly lifted his head and looked at me. His eyes were still glowing faintly, that unnatural light burned behind his irises like embers that hadn’t fully died out. When he spoke, his voice was still thick with that deep, animalistic growl, like the monster hadn’t completely let go of him
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