"Come out now—I can sniff you from miles away, Wren!" Angard shouted as he moved closer to Hazel, his arms wrapped tightly around her to make sure she couldn't run.
Hazel's breath caught. That was too fast. Wren must have pushed herself to the limit to track her down. Relief flickered in Hazel's chest, but it was quickly drowned by terror. What if Wren got hurt? Angard didn't feel like any ordinary man—his very presence carried an oppressive aura that pressed down on everyone around him.
In the next moment, Wren appeared. She looked pale, furious, her body shaking with rage.
"You dare?" Her eyes burned, but they weren't on Hazel, who was tied and helpless—they were locked onto Angard.
"Still hiding like a rat," Angard mocked, his tone sharp and cruel. "Nothing really changes, does it?" He didn't flinch at her arrival. It was as if her presence meant nothing to him.
"She's not the one you're looking for," Wren said, her voice cold, clipped, almost detached.
