With every tiny step I took backward, his eyebrow quirked higher, that lazy smirk tugging at his lips like he already knew the punchline to my funeral.
I made up my mind to run—no plan, just sheer panic. But before I could pivot, ice-cold fingers clamped around my neck like a steel vice. One moment, I was turning to flee. The next, I was dangling mid-air, throat crushed in a grip that felt like death incarnate.
Fuck vampire speed.
I'd always hated that cheat-code ability, but now wasn't exactly the time to file complaints—what with my airway being blocked and my vision tunneling into blackness.
"Isn't it too late to run?" he drawled, voice dripping menace. "Tell me, little witch, why I shouldn't snap your neck right now?"
