CHAPTER 172: No Control

LYRA

Blood.

It's everywhere, on my hands, under my claws, splattered across my fur. At my feet lies a wolf, its throat torn open, eyes still open, unseeing.

I did this.

The realisation should sicken me. Should fill me with remorse, with disgust at my own actions. Instead, I feel hungry and empty.

Hungry for more blood.

More pain.

I lift my nose into the air and inhale deeply, searching for another