For a long moment, Marcus just stood there. His face cycled through disbelief, confusion, and then—pure rage.
"NO." His voice was barely a whisper. "NO, NO, NO!"
He spun around and swept his arm across the tray of instruments, sending scalpels and pliers and drills clattering to the floor.
He grabbed a bookshelf and hurled it across the room. He punched the wall, leaving a bloody dent in the wood paneling.
"HOW DARE YOU!" He screamed. "How dare you take what's mine! Everything—EVERYTHING in my life has been given to me! I've never been denied anything! And you—you stupid, insignificant BRAT—you think you can steal from ME?!"
He was throwing a tantrum. A full-blown, childish tantrum. The most powerful mind-controller in the world, the man who had tortured countless victims in his nightmare domain, was acting like a spoiled child who had been told he couldn't have a toy.
Charlotte watched him rage with a mixture of awe and relief.
