Her nervous gaze ricocheted like charged particles, bouncing back and forth between Roman, Sean, and B, her face was etched in a cocktail of anxiety and apprehension. The air crackled with unspoken tension, as if every person in the room could sense the impending storm. Eventually, Sylvia’s eyes settled on B, who was crouched in front of her.
Earlier, barely ten minutes after Sylvia had left, B had forcefully dragged Sylvia back to the house, securing her tightly to a dining chair with a rope Lucy had provided.
As if that alone wasn’t enough to send one’s heart racing at an alarming rate, Roman’s uncle was now crouched before her, leisurely cleaning his nails with a wicked-looking stiletto knife, his actions deliberate and taunting.
The atmosphere crackled with tension as Uncle B drawle
