Chapter 27
Viktor barged into their room this time.
Julian did not hear him enter over the haze over him. Loud screeches filled his mind, telling him that he should not be alive, that he should not exist.
He was the cause. He would be the reason why his mates died.
Images of him in the middle of Rafael and Viktor's bodies, they were bleeding out, bodies impossibly cold, eyes staring blankly out, dead because of him.
And history shall repeat itself.
The last words of the prophecy rang in his head. He pressed his nails into his skin harder. He wanted to focus on the physical pain and block out the images that haunted him.
Viktor's eyes widened.
The little wolf was on the floor, curled up into a ball. Viktor could smell his blood in the air. It wasn't the sweetness he had imagined; it was harsh, almost acidic.
The little wolf was stuck in a panic attack, Viktor realized.
What should he do? What could he do?
The room smelt of sadness, of pain.
