His gray eyes pierced through me, cold as steel and twice as sharp. The air around us chilled with his rage, his lycan aura pressing down on me like a physical weight. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Could only stare in horror as the King's face contorted with an anger I'd never seen before—not even when he'd nearly killed that guard.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice was deceptively quiet, like the moment before a storm unleashes its fury.
My mouth opened, but no words came out. Only a small, pathetic whimper as I shrunk away from him, the tiny onesie still clutched in my trembling fingers.
In an instant, he was upon me, his massive hand closing around my chin, forcing me to look at him. "You had no right to touch my things. NO RIGHT!"
I flinched as if he'd struck me, tears spilling down my scarred cheeks. His grip tightened, and I could feel the immense strength he was holding back—the power that could snap my neck with a flick of his wrist.
