Jessica's POV
I shot Caleb a withering glare.
I shouldn't hesitate before using a blade on him?
A blade?
"You must be joking," I said.
But he wasn't. His fingers closed around my wrist, the one gripping the knife, dragging it toward his throat until the edge nearly kissed his skin. I fought to wrench my hand back, but despite his trembling and fever, his hold remained iron-strong.
"Jessica," he rasped, his gaze burning into mine. His voice wavered, yet his words cut through with unwavering determination. I could see the effort this cost him, the way it drained what little strength he had left, but he pressed on. "Use it." He guided the blade closer, the sharp point breaking skin until crimson bloomed where metal met flesh.
My eyes widened in horror as I struggled against his grip, but every movement only drove the knife deeper, more blood welling at the surface. The stubborn fool didn't even flinch.
"Release me!" I shrieked, panic clawing at my chest.
