Selene
The basement was cold, echoing with tension and flickering torchlight. The boy we'd captured sat restrained in the middle of the warded circle Azriel had carved into the floor—runes glowing faintly. He still had that smug look on his face, despite the bruises already blossoming along his jawline from earlier.
Azriel leaned silently against the far wall, arms crossed, watching. His air magic swirled faintly around him like a living thing, ready to strike.
I stood in front of the boy, arms folded, heart steady but burning beneath the surface.
"You gonna talk?" I asked.
The boy scoffed. "What's the point? You'll kill me either way."
I shrugged. "Not if you're useful."
A smirk. "I don't talk to whores."
Before I even had the chance to burn his mouth shut, Azriel was across the room, a gust of wind slamming the boy's chair back with a crack. His hand came down hard against the boy's cheek, and the air shimmered violently around him.
