Seraphina's Point Of View
The vase in my hand felt heavier than it actually was, my knuckles white as I gripped the cold glass. My heart was a frantic bird trapped in a cage, battering against my ribs so hard it made my chest ache. I stood my ground, even though my knees felt like they were made of jelly. The tremor in my legs threatened to betray the defiance I was desperately trying to project. Sweat gathered at the small of my back, cold and clammy against my skin.
"Sweetheart?" I spat the word out like it was poison, my lip curling in disgust. "Are you sick in the head, old man? Or is the senility just hitting you early?" Each word came out sharper than the last, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through my veins. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out rational thought. "I am not your sweetheart. I'm the woman you just had snatched off the street like a common criminal."
