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“You already tried,” Pride said carefully, eyes scanning me like I was a new species.

“No.” I stood. “I meanreallykill him.”

Damon slithered around me in a figure eight, purring low. His presence steadied me. Focused me. He had eaten my fire, but not all of it.

Not enough.

Because the minute I remembered Xavier's face—his smirk, his entitlement, his fucking hand around my wrist—it was back.

The fury.

The Wrath.

“He ran when Damon jumped in,” Envy muttered. “Coward.”

“He won't get far,” Gluttony said. “But before we go storming into another confrontation, maybe we need to talk about what just happened.”

“I awoke,” I said simply.

Seven pairs of eyes locked on me.

They knew. They felt it.

My chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. I reached up and touched my cheek—and for a moment, I saw not skin, but molten lines, glowing like cracked obsidian.

Wrath.

The seventh sin.

The missing one.

Me.

A howl cut through the air.

Xavier.

Damon tensed. So did I.

“Get out of my way,” I said to no one in particular.

Pride stepped aside first. Then Lust. Gluttony lingered, something unreadable in his eyes. I stepped through the hall, Damon a shadow at my heel, and threw open the manor doors.

He was there in the backyard, out by the edge of the tree line leading into the woods, bruised and bleeding. He leaned on a tree, eyes lighting up with panic when he saw me.

“You’re like a fucking roach,” I growled.

“I–”

And then I was there, in front of Xavier. My hand slammed into his chest. Not with magic. Not with fire. Just rage.

Damon howled.

I grabbed his heart. Literally. Pulled it out. I thought it would have been harder, but it was like pulling a toy I’d buried in playdoh as a child.

He gasped once. Then collapsed on himself, eyes wide in disbelief. His body crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

As I held his still beating heart in my hand, something clicked into place in the universe. A slot was filled that I hadn’t even realized was empty; a circle completed.