Phoebe's POV
Seeing that I still wouldn't meet his gaze, acting like I was absorbed in turning the fish, the leader's eyes gleamed with twisted satisfaction. He probably figured I was just another weak, cowardly woman. One little intimidation tactic and I'd crumble, he must have thought.
Without hesitation, he lifted his boot and sent my grill flying. The crash echoed as the perfectly cooked, oil-slicked fish went tumbling to the dirt below.
We were positioned right along the riverbank where the ground was nothing but packed earth. Sure, it wasn't swampy, but anything hitting that surface was ruined.
I was mid-rotation when the grill slipped from my hands, my gaze following the rack as it clattered down. I watched the fish continue to hiss and steam in the dirt, and something ice-cold flashed through my eyes. The air around me seemed to freeze.
