"I did not try to kill her," the voice growled through gritted teeth in anger.
His long, drawn-out sigh—low and heavy, like he was trying to steady the storm inside him.
"I only did it to make her weak," he said, this time with a disturbing sense of calm. His voice was smoother now, quieter, but that eerie shift—from fury to something cold and composed—made Sophie's skin prickle. The transition felt unnatural, like watching fire turn to still water in a blink. It chilled her more than his rage ever could.
"Make her weak?" Dain scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with the effort to hold himself back from tugging at the ropes again anger, although he was already close to suffocation.
"You fucking passed fentanyl through the AC!" he roared. "And all the windows were locked. We should've been dead within minutes!"
