Jasper's usual gentleness was shattered completely.
The calm, restrained male who once spoke softly and smiled easily was gone, replaced by a terrifying fury that twisted his features into something dark and unrecognizable.
A violent, self-destructive madness burned behind his eyes, as though he were one breath away from tearing the entire forest apart with his bare hands. His black-violet irises were rimmed with a frightening crimson, veins standing out starkly as he glared at Dax.
"You're right," Jasper said slowly, his voice low and fractured, each word carrying the weight of hatred and regret. "If my secret arts had completed faster, Rory would already be safe."
Dax stiffened. He hadn't meant to push Jasper this far—never this far. He knew better than anyone how deeply Jasper cared for Rory, how that worry gnawed at him until reason itself began to unravel.
