Kira's POV
I scratched frantically at the grip of the golden-eyed wolf as his fingers constricted around my neck. Every second delivered diminishing air, dwindling hope. My sight faded at the borders, shadows advancing like poured ink. I was unable to breathe. Unable to talk. Unable to scream.
*I am unable to die. Not at the moment. Not in this way.*
Images raced through my mind as I fought—Mom's grin on that final morning before she left me, Asher's icy gaze when he prioritized power over our connection, Maya's unwavering loyalty. Liam, who had faith in me when I couldn't have faith in myself. My group, who relied on me to be tougher than I perceived.
As my awareness dimmed, a feeling awakened deep within me. Not my telekinesis—that ability I had come to depend on seemed insignificant next to what was stirring. This was fundamental. Old. It vibrated within my bones and throbbed with each fading heartbeat, untamed as the moon.