Isolde lifted her chin high, challenging Severin. Seeing the pissed-off look on his face unlocked something she hadn't grasped until now.
"You're scared, aren't you, Severin? You said I stirred something long dead inside you—curiosity, satisfaction not born from sex or murder, jealousy... and fear. You didn't bring me here because I was useless at Velvet Cage. You brought me here because you're scared. You knew—even after training me—this pregnancy slows me down. My movements are limited, my progress stalled. If someone attacked me, I wouldn't stand a chance. That's why you hid me here. You're fucking terrified."
Severin's grip on her upper arm tightened. She knew she'd wake up tomorrow with bruises.
"I'm not afraid of anything. Not Lucien, not you, not that fucking kid, and sure as hell not God." Severin emphasized every word like bullets, ensuring she heard them.
