No. It was his father. Just his father. I'll pull out your teeth, she thought as their eyes locked. His were bleary. Unfocused. One by one. And I'll take that broken finger of yours. Snap it right off. I'll cut it into tiny pieces and feed them to you. And then I'll peel the skin off your back and hang it outside to dry. It wouldn't be so different from the cat... Something in his eyes shifted. Even in his alcohol-induced state, his instincts had kicked in. Run, they whispered as she faced him down. Run run run run run run— "Calla," Vincent murmured, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. She tore her eyes away from his father. He'd thrown on his letterman jacket and had a bag over one broad shoulder. He jerked his head toward the door. Calla followed him, her eyes lingering o

