"What the hell is this, Damien? Where is she?"
Angard's voice thundered through the room, thick with fury. His piercing eyes, dark and dangerous, scanned the group in front of him—a useless cluster of cowards. His gaze settled on the petite woman at the center. He had rushed here the moment he heard they'd found her. But this? This was a joke.
The woman looked fragile, vulnerable even. She resembled her—the one he had lost—but it was clear she was not the same. She was a pale imitation. One didn't even need a second look to realize that she was a counterfeit. The resemblance was superficial at best.
He stepped forward slowly, the fury in his gaze burning hotter with every step, then lunged and grabbed Damien by the throat.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right here, right now."
