Veronica could barely breathe. Those words were colder than the evening breeze brushing against her skin. Her thoughts were a mess, her chest tight, and her stomach twisted in knots. She never expected Daxter to push this far, even threatening her with a calmness that only made it more terrifying.
"Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you? Weren't you the one who helped me back then?" she asked softly, her voice nearly drowned by the rustling wind stirring the leaves around them.
They sat on a bench facing a small pond behind Clark's mansion her stepfather. The twilight should've felt serene and peaceful, yet it only added to the chilling atmosphere. The tall trees cast looming shadows, cloaking them in tension.
Daxter turned to her, his sharp eyes staring straight ahead as if studying an object he was about to claim. "I'm still helping you, Veronica. Marry me, or you already know what'll happen if you refuse."
