[Gale's POV]
The wind howled around us. Branches groaned overhead, their leaves tearing free and spiraling into the dark sky. The hurricane was nearly formed—I could feel it pressing against my palm, eager to be unleashed, hungry for destruction.
And still, she didn't move.
Ann stood rooted to the forest floor, her dark eyes fixed on me. The cloth bundle she had carried was still clutched in one white-knuckled grip. Her hair whipped around her face in the wind I was building. Her clothes flattened against her body. But she didn't run. Didn't shift. Didn't reach for her weapon.
Why isn't she moving?
"If you really think that I'm a threat to Lady Ovelia…" Her voice was barely audible over the wind, but I heard every word. She bowed her head—a deep, deliberate gesture that exposed the back of her neck. Vulnerable. Submissive. Trusting. "Please kill me."
I stared at her.
