POV: Alaric
I exhaled slowly, pushing away from the bed where I sat. The very air I was breathing was thick with barely restrained fury.
I walked over to the table by the window, my fingers trailing over the flowers sitting in the glass vase perched at the edge. It shouldn't be there. Not so close to falling off the edge of the table.
But I didn't move it. Neither did I steady it. Instead, I watched it, waiting to see if it would tip over on its own. I was just like that vase–balanced on the edge, one wrong move away from crashing. If nothing changed, if nothing was done, I'd fall and shatter. Just like it would.
But I left it there, letting it sit and decide. Just like I was about to.
My jaw clenched as I reached for my phone, preparing to call Rhys in order to start tearing through this mess, when the door slammed open with a violent crack.
