The two stood face to face.
One stood outside the door, the other inside.
Only a few centimeters apart.
Yet the atmosphere between them had dropped to a new low.
Glenn Hutchinson stood there, immovable, just as he did in countless memories, without the slightest change.
Flossie Wright gripped the dagger tightly, her dark pupils seemed to have a layer of frost, cold enough to cover all emotions and thoughts, leaving only that chilling cold spreading inadvertently, as if it could freeze a person to the bone.
But the hand holding the dagger trembled slightly with minute movements.
Knowing well that killing him would change nothing.
Knowing well that killing him wouldn't bring anything back.
Knowing well that killing him would only...
Bring about an even greater disaster.
Yet the outburst of anger and hatred couldn't suppress this impulse.
Death, is it?
At worst, we die together!
Those cold eyes grew even colder, the killing intent flared.
