233
~Fridolf's POV
I stood at the entrance, my eyes fixed on her. Lisa, small, frail, yet fierce even in that prison garb, spat in my face. The warm, wet sting landed across my cheek, and I didn't flinch. I let her anger roll over me, pretending to stagger back just slightly, the mask of outrage settling perfectly.
"Damon will live," she hissed, her chest heaving. "And all your lies… they will be exposed!"
I let out a soft, almost amused chuckle, wiping a ghost of her spit from my cheek. "Ah, my dear girl," I said softly, my voice deceptively calm, "you have spirit. Too bad that spirit blinds you to the truth. You really think your little threats can stop what is already in motion?"
Her eyes blazed, spit flecking her lips, but I held her gaze, letting the silence stretch. I could feel the fire in her words, the stubborn loyalty to that fool of an Alpha. Perfect. The more she struggled, the tighter my control grew.
