Catherine clenched her jaw.
She had slipped.
She had promised herself she wouldn't let Dorian get inside her head, yet the moment he mentioned Maximilian, she had lost her composure.
And now... That mistake was going to leave a mark.
For one terrifying moment, she almost gave up. Almost. But…
No.
She already carried Dorian's scars on her soul. She refused to carry them on her body as well.
She drove her knee upward, trying to throw him off. Her fingers dug desperately into the hand crushing her throat, clawing at his wrist, but his grip only tightened.
Air stopped reaching her lungs. She couldn't even cough. Pressure built inside her head until her vision blurred and her eyes felt ready to burst.
She was dying.
A twisted chuckle escaped Dorian.
He had abandoned the idea of striking her with the gun. Watching her struggle amused him far more.
Finally, he loosened his grip.
