Everyone in the car froze.
Even Ytrisia tensed slightly, her purple energy flaring. Eventide stepped instinctively in front of Sugar, her eyes burning with adrenaline. Sugar's breath hitched painfully in her throat, her long legs suddenly feeling incredibly weak.
And standing in the dead center of the room, Cruxius stood. One arm raised. The smoking Desert Eagle still aimed precisely where Darithi's blade had been.
His fingers didn't tremble. His stance didn't shift an inch.
But the air in the room suddenly felt freezing cold.
His voice tore through the silence.
"Don't hurt her."
It wasn't a warning.
It was an absolute command.
Heavy. Crushing. Crackling with dark fury and something else entirely—something deeply, violently possessive.
