The chains shattered.
Matt didn't feel them break—he felt the beast surge forward, felt the ancient power of the Harkma blood flood through his veins like liquid fire. The metal that had held him suspended for so long snapped like twigs, and he dropped to the ground, landing on all fours.
He was no longer human.
The Harkma had fully taken over—massive, dark-furred, his eyes burning with golden fire. His claws dug into the stone floor. His teeth gleamed in the torchlight. The scent of blood filled his nostrils—his own blood, Yvonne's blood, and the blood of the man who had killed his father.
Harry stood across the room, the Trident of Asmodius pulsing in his hands. His wolf form was larger than before, his body swollen with stolen power. His eyes burned with a light that hadn't been there moments ago—a sickly green glow that seemed to writhe beneath his skin.
