Violet's breath came in ragged, uneven gasps as the air in the room thickened with unseen pressure. Her legs trembled, her back pressed firmly against the cold wall as Vazer inched closer, his blood-red eyes glimmering with unrestrained amusement.
"I must say," he mused, tilting his head, the smirk never leaving his lips, "I expected some resistance, but you're frozen in place like a frightened little rabbit. How disappointing."
Violet's fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to fight, to do something—but fear had wrapped itself around her throat, stealing any semblance of control.
"Where's Cain?" she forced out, barely above a whisper.
Vazer's smirk deepened, as if he relished the question. "Oh, he's busy at the moment. Far too busy to come running to your rescue, I'm afraid."
