Clyde's eyes narrowed, studying every twitch in Darcy's expression. He stepped closer, his shoes clicking softly against the polished floor. It was as if the king of Yama was hovering over him.
"Why are you panicking?" Clyde asked quietly. "Did you really think you could harm Micah? That I would let you?"
Darcy bit the inside of his cheek, tasting iron. He forced his shoulders to relax, though every muscle screamed at him to run. He needed to stay composed, to appear unfazed, clueless even. That was the only way to survive.
This man was dangerous.
But his eyes betrayed him; fear flickered there, impossible to hide.
Clyde chuckled all of a sudden, the sound low and humourless. "Ah…I see. You don't have to act anymore."
Darcy froze, his heart hammering.
Clyde took a step back, his gaze cooling. "Stay away from Micah," he warned, voice turning cold as glass. "Or I'll crush you if you harm him again."
