Lior’s POV
Confusion claws at me. My gaze snaps between them: Lila, small and stunned; the woman, arm poised; Liam, motionless, as if this is someone else’s quarrel. Why isn’t he stopping her? Why is he just—watching?
The awkward, heavy silence holds for one beat, two—then my feet move on their own. I lunge forward and clamp onto the woman’s wrist mid-air. My fingers lock around bone and tendon; I won’t let her move another inch. She jerks, shocked, trying to wrench free, but my grip is iron.
“Who are you?” she spits, irritation like acid in her voice as she glares at me.
Something cold and low settles into my throat. I lean in until my voice is a blade. “How dare you?” I say. I can’t make it gentle. I won’t. “What makes you think you can lay a hand on her?”
Her lips tremble. The colo
