Page 79 of Warlord's Plaything

I feel fucking wild.

Restless. Like something inside me is trying to claw its way out.

I shift against him, testing his hold.

His fingers tighten around my wrists, holding me still.

"I should kill you for that."

His voice is smooth, too smooth. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. And he’s enjoying it.

"You should try,"I breathe, voice sharper than I intend.

His smirk deepens.

"Careful, little warrior."

"Or what?"

"Or you might not like how this ends."

I bare my teeth.

"You think I’m afraid of you?"

"No."His gaze drags over me, slow, deliberate."I think you’re afraid of yourself."

Something inside me snaps.

My mind goes blank.

I just move.

A brutal shift, a sharp twist—and suddenly, I’m the one pinning him.

His back hits the wall, his grip falters just enough, just fucking enough?—

And then my blade is at his throat.

Silence.

Thick. Tense. Crackling.

My breath is shallow, my muscles trembling.

Not from exhaustion.

Not from the fight.

But from whatever the fuck just happened.

From the way I moved—too fast, too strong.

From the way Xyron is just watching me now, like he’s seeing something I don’t want him to see.

"What are you?"

His voice is quiet.

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