The sound of splintering wood filled the air before I even turned.
Darius’s snarl ripped through the room, low and feral.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Daemon straightened, his chest heaving, eyes still wild with heat.
The crash came before I could even process what was happening books shattering against the wall, the table jerking under me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Darius’s voice thundered across the room, rough and dangerous. My entire body froze.
Daemon stiffened, his hand still gripping the edge of the table. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, slow as a storm gathering force, he straightened and turned toward his brother.
“Get. Out.” His words were gravel, low and animalistic.
Darius took a step forward, his eyes glowing that lethal golden hue.
