His jaw was clenched so tightly it ached, the muscles along his face rigid as he fought the urge to lash out. Killing the man in front of him would be easy, far too easy, but he couldn't afford that. Not yet. The bastard was still useful. Still a source of the information he desperately needed.
But his temper was already teetering on the edge.
The moment he realized that Dave's life was truly in danger, something dark and suffocating began rising in his chest, thick and heavy. And the thought, the very real possibility, that Hera might be the next target made it even worse.
His breathing turned uneven, ragged, as if an invisible hand had wrapped itself around his throat and was slowly tightening, squeezing the air out of his lungs.
He hated this feeling.
Despised it.
More than anything, he refused to accept the idea of something happening to his precious girl.
