"What the FUCK do you want, Phei?"
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees in a single breath — as if hell itself had just drawn a slow, hungry inhale.
Luckily the room was sealed off by Eira.
Phei looked at Kyle across the coffee table — calm for a heartbeat, utterly calm — and then something behind his amethyst eyes simply came loose. Snapped. Unleashed.
All the anger he'd been sitting on from the moment he saw Kyle was let free.
"What do I want."
"I—"
"What do I want."
"Phei—"
"How dare you ask me that."
The couch Phei had been sitting on did not register what happened next. One moment he was seated. The next he was a blur of violet fury, airborne across the coffee table, the crystal decanter and everything else on it exploding into shrapnel against the far wall from the sheer pressure wave of his passage.
Before Kyle's brain could even begin to process the motion, Phei's foot connected with his chest.
A single kick dead centre of his chest.
