Allen's gaze cut sharp as a blade, watching Nyra kneel before him, her eyes flickering with that familiar foxkin fire—but there was something guarded, like she was holding back a damn vault of secrets.
He pulled back, voice low and dangerous. "You said some wild shit about the Rhelgar family and slaves the other day. Spill it. What aren't you telling me?"
Nyra's lips pressed tight, eyes darting away like she was calculating whether to fight or fold. Silence stretched—thick and tense—before Allen's patience snapped.
SMACK!
His hand landed hard across her cheek, echoing through the hut like a thunderclap.
Nyra's head jerked to the side, eyes wide, heat flushing her cheeks—not from shame, but from the sharp shock of reality cracking through her stubborn pride.
Allen leaned in close, voice a razor's edge. "No more hiding. Tell me everything."
