Author's POV
Before the final, cataclysmic blast that would echo across the track, the triplets were caught in their own private hell.
The revelation had been a physical blow. The vessel had been living under their roof. Sleeping in their bed. Holding their hearts.
As they helped usher panicked civilians to safety, their minds reeled, unable to process the scale of the betrayal—or was it even a betrayal? The storm of emotions was paralyzing.
Disbelief, horror, a crushing sense of foolishness, and beneath it all, a wounded, roaring sense of betrayal from their own instincts.
Now, they fought mechanically, clearing a path through the undead scum, their movements fueled by a boiling mix of fury and confusion. Keith drove his fist through the chest of a rogue werewolf. He wasn't fighting the creature; he was fighting the images in his head. The dark crown on her head in that video.
