Alpha Ryu
His blood painted the floor like a warning—an ugly, crimson masterpiece of justice.
Ryu had done it.
He had ended him.
For me.
For our child.
A savage snarl still rumbled deep in Ryu’s chest, his canines bared, his body trembling with barely-contained rage and grief. His clothes were torn, soaked in blood—Craig’s blood—and the knuckles that held me so carefully were shredded and raw.
He looked like a god of war... or a monster born from heartbreak.
I tried to lift my hand, to touch his face, to anchor myself to him—but my body betrayed me. My strength seeped away, bleeding into the cold floor beneath us. The room tilted violently, and darkness, thick and beckoning, rushed to claim me.
Sikat na Kabanata