His voice was deep and cold as he hammered each word into her eardrums: "Don't think that being an ally means you can act all high and mighty before me. Killing you would be easier than crushing a bug, and I wouldn't even need to stain my hands with blood."
She couldn't stop trembling, her nails dug into his wrist, but it had no effect.
Her eyes were painfully swollen from the lack of oxygen, almost about to burst—she knew well enough his ruthlessness, but never thought he would personally tear apart that false alliance so completely, so mercilessly.
"Let... let go of me..."
She forced out a few words with difficulty, her throat felt like it was clamped in iron pliers, her breath intermittently choking.
Her fingers slapped wildly against his arm, yet Curtis Prescott's palm remained motionless.
