Eira’s POV
Kellan’s fingers closed around my throat.
Not a choking grip, not yet — but a warning. The kind of possessive pressure that says you better watch yourself before words ever do. My head snapped back on the wall and the cold concrete hit my scalp. For a half-second, everything stilled, the hum of the lights, the distant chatter of students, the thud of my heart that suddenly felt like a drum.
“You b***h,” he spat, his voice low enough that only I could hear it, and I shivered at the enticing heat coming from his body.
Air died in my lungs. Hot, fast. My hands scrabbled at his wrists, useless against the strength of his grip. For a stupid, humiliating instant I thought of the phone and Ares’ threat — of that video waiting to explode my life and the iron in my chest sank deeper.
