Marcus Scavenger's face contorted, his calm facade shattering into a mask of cold, concentrated fury. "My patriarch may have said we should avoid direct conflict with you, but I have the prestige of the Scavenger family to uphold. You have crossed a line that cannot be ignored," said Marcus.
Ethan ignored him. He turned his back, a move of utter contempt, and reached down to unbuckle the leather straps holding Sparks to the chair. He could feel her shallow breathing, a faint puff of air against his hand. But as he went to lift her, the air behind him hissed.
Without looking, Ethan spun on his heel. His hand shot out, catching Marcus's wrist in mid-air. The grip was iron-tight, a clash of raw power that made the dust on the floor swirl.
"You're quite strong," said Marcus, a dark, predatory smile spreading across his lips. "I suppose that's why you think you're special."
