EMBER’S POV
He’s standing in the snow about twenty feet away, his face a mask of barely controlled fury.
The cold bites at my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ice spreading through my veins as Knox’s eyes take in the scene — me emerging from the house with Rafael, my tear-stained face, the handkerchief still clutched in my trembling fingers, the way Rafael’s hand hovers near my back.
For a moment, no one moves. The world narrows to just the three of us, suspended in the pale winter light, and I can almost hear the thread between Knox and me stretching taut, ready to snap.
“Ember.” Knox’s voice is too calm. The calm that comes before violence. The calm that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “Step away from him.”
“Knox, please—”
“She’s fine, Volkov.” Rafael’s voice
