Anne's heart pounded painfully. Her instincts screamed danger. This man seemed like born for violence. Every movement radiated danger, like a lion scenting blood. He didn't need to raise his voice or bare his fists—his presence alone was enough to freeze the air.
She clutched Augustine's arm instinctively.
"Who is he?" she whispered, voice tight with fear.
Augustine patted the back of her hand. "Relax," he said reassuringly. "I've got this."
He took a step forward, pushing Anne behind him. "The Devil never forgets how to fight." He motioned with his fingers, inviting him as he took a fighting stance. "Come on. Show me your moves."
Anne's blood turned cold as she saw them ready for the combat. "Augustine," she called out, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Step back," Augustine commanded.
Anne hurried back, knowing the tension had already escalated beyond intervention. She couldn't stop them. All she could do was pray for Augustine to win the fight.
