Seraphina's Point Of View
I could feel it in the air… the sudden, suffocating drop in temperature that meant someone was about to be interrogated by a Corvanni. Rose was trembling so hard her heels were practically clicking against the linoleum, and Mason looked ready to fight with a fresh set of surgical staples holding his chest together.
His jaw was set in that stubborn way I'd come to recognize, the one that meant he'd rather bleed out than admit he was in pain. His knuckles had gone white against the armrest of his chair, and I could see the faint sheen of sweat gathering at his temple, evidence of how much effort it took him just to sit upright.
Not here. Not right now.
They couldn't do this here. Rose was already at her breaking point, Mason could barely stand without wincing, and my head was still throbbing like a bass drum. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to buzz louder with every passing second, grating against my raw nerves.
