Viktor didn't hear him. Or didn't care. Both possibilities were the same.
He looked at his girlfriend. On the ground. On her back. Her legs spread. Her cunt — the cunt he had sworn to protect, the cunt she had saved for their wedding night — was leaking another man's cum. White, thick, overflowing. Her eyes were vacant. Her mouth was open. She was smiling.
She was smiling.
Something broke in demon man's chest. Not his heart — that had broken an hour ago. Something deeper. Something that held a man together when everything else fell apart. The last thread. The 'I-still-have-options' thread. The 'there-is-still-a-way' thread.
He used it.
His teeth closed on his own tongue.
Bit down. Hard. The pain was blinding — white, hot, filling his skull. Blood filled his mouth. Copper. Warm. His eyes rolled back. His body convulsed against the vines. He tasted his own blood swallowing it, choking on it, and for a moment — just a moment — the world went dark.
'Summoning.'
