ROOSEVELT’S POV

The loud crack of the table splitting down the middle echoed through the kitchen like a gunshot. The sound sucked all the air out of the room.

I jumped back, covering my mouth as a cloud of white dust filled the air. I stared at it, my whole body trembling with shock.

Zyran stood frozen over the shattered table, his chest heaving rapidly. He slowly lifted his hands, staring blankly at his split, bleeding knuckles, as if he didn’t recognize what he had just become.

"Zyran," I whispered, my voice shaking so much it barely came out, "Look at what you just did."

He raised his head slowly,...