David's eyes stayed sharp as he watched Alaric vanish with the instructors.
The grin that curled across his lips was slow, deliberate—predatory.
Finally, the moment they had been waiting for was close.
Crash!
The sudden shatter of glass beside him snapped his attention away. Luke stood there, trembling, eyes bloodshot and wild, his breath coming out in harsh pants.
His hand, stained with spilled drink, shook violently as the twisted demonic energy inside him almost began to leak out, and every muscle in his face strained to hold back the frenzy threatening to consume him.
The waiter in front of them looked pale, bowing deeply.
"I-I'm so sorry!" the man said, voice hurried and genuine. "I wasn't watching where I was going. Please forgive me!"
"You sh—" Luke began, rage burning in his voice.
"It's okay," David cut in quickly, stepping in front of him and placing a firm hand against Luke's chest. He couldn't let Luke lose control yet—not here, not now.
