Clark's POV
"Stand aside, kid."
Reed's voice was low, dangerous. It vibrated through the air like the growl of a caged beast about to break loose. He shoved the leash into my hands, the leather biting my palm, heavy as if it carried the weight of chains instead of just restraint. My throat burned under the collar, and I realized the implication: if I wanted to run, I'd be dragging myself.
But I couldn't move. Not with Blaze standing there. Not with Reed squaring his shoulders, his eyes burning like molten gold, colliding with Blaze's crimson fury across the room.
I looked at him. At Reed. His jaw clenched so tight the muscles spasmed under his skin. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts. His eyes—gods—his eyes were glowing gold, molten, furious, colliding with Blaze's blood-red fire from across the ruined club.
