My nails grow into sharp claws at my sides and I step forward once.
“Put. Them. Down.” I speak slowly. My heart is beating wildly in my chest and I hope he sees it in my face.
His miserable future.
I’d guessed who he was with a single glance. He is a well-kept man. A man with a charming face—high cheekbones, a strong jawline and pretty hazel eyes. He’s built like a predator of his own—tall, lean, muscular—and wrapped head to toe in the finest warm clothes—a navy blue long coat, black pants, and a lapel sweater that fits tightly around his body.
He only grapples with his shock for a single masterful moment, before attempting to regain control of the situation.
“If… I do that,” August’s voice is smooth and melodic in the air, calm on the surface, and within seconds, a calculating look has entered his eyes, whereas average men would’ve been lost for words.
“What stops you from killing me?”
My eyes narrow.
I expand my senses. Until I can hear the heartbeat of every man in the room, count their breaths, predict how jittery they are.
I raise my gun and pull the trigger four times, each bullet burrowing into four heads.
Four men who dared to point their guns at my person.
My act of violence breaks August’s men out of their shock. They stagger back with creeping fear and I’m relieved when they turn their fire on me instead.
I pull four of my wings in front of me, leaving the lower two spread wide to protect the men behind me, and their bullets sink into the tough feathers, momentum halted completely, before falling to the floor.
When they’ve used up their clips, or at least most of their bullets, I feel the need to flutter my wings, to shake out the flattened ammunition stuck in my feathers.
August doesn’t look the slightest bit afraid.
Even though I can hear the pounding of his heart from here.
“Are you the one who’s been helping the Taigas ruin all my plans?” He asks coolly.
I don’t answer.
The other men in the room have lost their composure. I can tell from how fast their hearts are beating—can see the hesitation and new fear in their eyes as they share glances and step back.
It was a split-second decision, but I chose this form specifically for that reason.
To make them hesitate.
I step forward, but the moment I do, August grabs a gun from the nearest man—
And points it directly at Reuben.
Before I can think clearly, the barrel of my gun is pointed directly between his eyes. My glare is hot and deadly as I snarl, “Don’t test me.”
“Christian,” Xavier calls my name firmly from behind me, a bid to get my attention, but I’m focused entirely on the threat pressing a gun to Reuben’s head.
If he pulls that trigger, I’ll kill him.
I’ll swear it to every god that exists on every fucking planet in the universe.
“Christian,” August repeats the name, testing it on his tongue, and I know the exact moment he figures it out.
The exact moment he pieces it together.
Cunning snake.
