Because if this went sideways, this wasn’t something I could fight my way out of.
Drake shifted under my skin, not losing control, not snapping, but alert in a way that made every muscle in my body tighten just a fraction more, because he felt it too, that wrongness in the air, that pressure sitting just beneath the surface.
This wasn’t claws.
This wasn’t teeth.
This wasn’t something we were built for.
“Masking first,” Mr. Red said, already moving, already reaching for something like this was routine to him, like none of this carried any weight at all. “What you have isn’t enough.”
No s**t.
He moved around us like a dancer, smooth in a way that didn’t quite match the place, hands tracing shapes in the air that didn’t leave marks but still felt like they did, leaning in too close one
