Dahlia's POV
The second I pulled open my apartment door, Flora stood there like a woman possessed. Fury radiated from every inch of her body, her perfectly styled hair slightly disheveled from her obvious rush to get here. Her manicured fingers were clenched into fists, and those cold eyes of hers burned with a hatred so intense it could have melted steel.
She didn't waste time with pleasantries. Her hand shot up, aiming straight for my cheek with the kind of vicious intent that would have left a mark. But my reflexes kicked in, and despite the throbbing pain in my injured hand, I caught her wrist in a grip that made her gasp.
The sound that escaped her throat was part surprise, part pain, but it didn't shut her up. If anything, it seemed to fuel her rage even more.
