ANGEL
The knife came down. But Vincent’s hand shot up and caught my wrist mid-strike, stopping the blade inches from his throat.
For one suspended breath, I could see my reflection warped in the metal.
Neither of us moved. His eyes gleamed with surprise, and then hurt. Almost like he didn’t believe I would actually hurt him.
I took the chance, using his immobility to my advantage, attempting to shove the knife again.
He caught my wrist. And twisted.
His movements weren’t violent. Just enough pressure that forced my fingers to spring open against my will.
The knife clattered to the floor, my only weapon.
“No!” I lunged for it but Vincent was already moving. He kicked the knife to a spot in the room where my eyes couldn’t reach.
“Angel, stop it!” He pulled me against him, his
