Arabella thrashed in Johann's grip, her fingernails digging into his skin in a desperate attempt to break free. But his grasp only tightened, cruel and unrelenting, as if he meant to peel her scalp from her skull with sheer force.
"The sword," Johann snapped to his companion, dragging the others out of their daze. They had been staring, entranced by Arabella's struggle, by the fury burning in her eyes rather than fear.
One of them quickly unsheathed a blade, tossing it to Johann. He caught it with ease and smirked, the expression slicing across his face like a wound.
"I'll never understand why humans think they can defy us," Johann said, his voice dripping with cold amusement. "So soft. So predictable. Always crying, always hoping. And yet still convinced they have power."
He tilted her chin up with the edge of the blade, relishing the tears brimming in her eyes. But when he looked closer, he faltered.
It wasn't despair staring back at him.
