Damon looked down at her. His dark brown eyes were completely empty of any warmth, any mercy, or any family affection.
"Yes, Aunt Adeline," Damon spoke. His deep voice was smooth and calm. It was the calmness of a predator right before it strikes.
"It is me."
Adeline swallowed hard. She pushed herself back against the damp, moss-covered stone wall, trying to get as far away from him as possible. Elora was sitting next to her with her bandaged arm, her whole body shaking.
Damon took one slow step forward. His boot crunched against the dirt floor.
"You can do anything to me," Damon said softly, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "You can plot against me. You can insult me. And you might get away with it."
He paused, letting his dark eyes burn into Adeline's terrified face.
"But not my wife," Damon stated. The words were absolute law.
Adeline's breath hitched. She saw the seriousness in his eyes. He was not here to scold them. He was here to destroy them.
