Mikhail’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening as he locked eyes with Elias Draven. The hunter’s confidence was suffocating, his smirk taunting. He knew exactly what he was doing—pushing them, testing them, waiting for one of them to lash out first.
Makayla took a step forward, but Gino reached out, placing a firm hand on her arm. She huffed but stilled, though the fire in her eyes remained.
“You came here to threaten us,” Celine said coolly, tilting her head. “But if you had any real proof of what we are, we wouldn’t be standing here talking, would we?”
Draven chuckled, shaking his head. “Smart. But I don’t need proof. I know what I know. And I know that monsters don’t belong here.”
Mikhail’s lips parted slightly, his fangs aching to extend, to put this hunter in his place.
