Seraphina's Point Of View
"Do not touch her," he said, each word deliberate and weighted with threat.
The room didn't just go quiet.
It froze.
Even the air seemed to know better than to move.
Simon winced… actually winced as Azriel's grip tightened around his wrist. I could hear it. Not a crack, no, but close. Too close. The kind of pressure that made your bones remember their fragility, that reminded you how easily they could snap.
"Do you want to lose not only your job," Azriel continued, his voice low, calm… too calm, "but your hand as well?"
Simon let out a broken sound, something between a whimper and a gasp. "S-sir… please—"
"Because," Azriel leaned in slightly, his voice dropping further, quieter, deadlier, "I will be more than happy to make that a reality if you so much as lay a finger on her."
My breath hitched. Not loudly. But enough that I felt it scrape against my throat, raw and sharp. My gaze flickered, just for a second to Rose.
