He was not like other children. He never would be.
His blood-red and dark-shadowed eyes clashed with Yuki's own, an unspoken challenge hanging between mother and son.
Yuki, still in her devil form, regarded him coldly. There was no warmth in her gaze, no gentle embrace awaiting him. This was no ordinary birth, and she was no ordinary mother. She had felt his intent before he was even born—his desire to make her his first kill, to emerge into this world baptized in her blood.
But she was his mother.
And she would not be prey.
Slowly, her lips curved into something that was not quite a smile. It was neither amusement nor affection—it was simply acknowledgment.
"You'll have to do better than that, my son."
