Chapter 147

• The world around me swayed, a dizzying blur of motion that made even walking a struggle. I wasn’t sure if it was my body that was failing me or if the true exhaustion weighed heavier on my mind. The ache in my chest wasn’t just from battle—it was the weight of my first kill, an invisible wound that bled guilt. I could justify what I’d done, tell myself over and over that Merrick deserved to die, but none of that changed the hollow feeling gnawing at my core.
• My gaze kept drifting to my hands, still smeared with drying blood, and the knife I clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white.
• Leif slipped his arm beneath mine, steadying me as we moved forward, matching my uneven steps with careful patience. My wounds had mostly healed, knitting back together the way they always did, but his were slower to fade. Deep gashes still marred his neck and chest, proof of the battle that wasn’t yet over.