The guard slowly lowered his fist, his face turning a pale, sickly shade of white under my father's icy glare. He scrambled backward out of the cell, practically tripping over his own boots as he took his post flat against the outer wall.
My father didn't look at him again. His piercing, analytical eyes shifted entirely to me, scanning my defiant posture and the heavy iron cuffs still securing my wrists behind my back.
"Why are you provoking the guards, Rachel?" he asked, his voice disturbingly calm, lacking any of the raw fury that usually fueled the supernatural world. It was the detached tone of a scientist watching an experiment.
I took a step forward, refusing to let the heavy, stifling weight of his presence force me down. "Because I want answers," I snapped, my voice echoing off
