Two sharp blades held by strong, sure-handed men were held dangerously close to Thessalia's throat. The troops stood with their feet shoulder-width apart, which showed that they were well-balanced and ready to move quickly.
When the Alpha saw that she wasn't going to carelessly jump to her death, he sat up with confidence and slid the knife back into its sheath on his belt.
Two pairs of eyes peeked out from the side of the table, they were oblivious to her inner temptation to blind them with a bottle of ink.
She restrained herself, opting to maintain her composure and focus on the situation at hand.
"I guess that answers the question of whether it's your blade," the Alpha remarked, a touch of amusement in his voice.
Thessalia gritted her teeth together in anger. The Alpha's condesce
