Alpha Enzo
Unable to look away, I stared at the arm and the hand, torn from its body, resting morbidly in the snow.
I guess I should just call him Big Hand, now, I thought, so sickened that I couldn’t process anything more. Bile rose in my throat. I tried to roll over and felt my stomach convulse, but I had nothing to throw up.
Enzo shifted back. “Touch her again, and I’ll take your other hand, too.”
Big Hand fell to his knees, grabbing his lifeless arm, a sob building in his chest. “My… my arm,” he whimpered, his face contorted with pain.
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