I understood what he was doing a moment too late, not because I failed to see the movement, but because I failed to recognize the intention behind it, and by the time clarity struck, Kessler was already moving with a precision that told me he had decided this long before now.
He was not trying to break free. He was not trying to stop me. He was aiming for something far more dangerous.
The center.
The place inside me where everything had begun to gather, where the pressure had been building, where the presence had taken hold and refused to let go.
My grip tightened around his throat on instinct, driven by something that was no longer entirely mine, as the force inside me reacted sharply to the threat, recognizing it before I fully did, and attempting to stop him before the strike could
