The moment our eyes locked, I felt a chill run down my spine.
Dahlia certainly wasted no time. She growled, her fangs bared as she crouched low, muscles coiled like tightly wound springs, ready to pounce in a single swift motion. A low growl rumbled deep in her throat as her eyes fixed unwaveringly on me.
The ripped wedding gown still hung on her body, mixed with the dark fur of her wolf, the contrast of white against black jarring. Some parts were already ruined beyond saving― the corset had sprung off, the sheer skirts were torn, and the embroidered flowers were left scattered all over the floor. However, there were still bits and pieces that stretched to accommodate her new form, such as the large bell sleeves of the dress.
Sadly, it only made her look more like a joke than anything. Yet if I laughed, I probably wouldn't live to see tomorrow.
