Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“I can’t believe it.â€� I whispered.
‘You can’t let him lure you back in, Felicia. He’s wrong. He’s wrong!� Vanian pleaded, I could feel the quiver of his magic, the wisps that were fighting against the iron burning into his wrists, I could feel the crackle as it fought in the air, against his emotions, against his pain. I shook my head, was about to speak but Adam grabbed him by the front of his shirt; as if a few more tears and shreds couldn’t go amiss. The tightness of his grip paled the Faerie’s cheeks, caused the blood to trickle down faster, dropping to the floor.
‘My wife.� He yelled, ‘She’s my wife, silverblood.� With each growl of a syllable he accented it with a punch to Vanian’s face.
I couldn’t take much more. I jumped over and pulled at Adam’s shoulders, fingertips driving into the nook of his collarbone, pressing down with as much as I had in me, anything to break his hold. He recoiled and rose his hand to me, at first I flinched but I stopped. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t.”
― Charlotte Munro, Requiem City: The Butcher