Phoebe's POV
Armand had been hanging there the entire night. Initially, he'd felt somewhat fortunate, but as time crawled by, helplessness consumed him, and eventually, trapped alone in that vacant basement, despair took over completely. He'd started believing that Harold's men would simply abandon him there to perish.
He'd been anticipating the door's opening for what felt like eternity, and when it finally creaked open, all he glimpsed was... a woman? Wait, a woman?
Armand, the shameless deviant he was, allowed his lustful, half-closed eyes to wander across my stunning form. However, the moment he caught sight of my face clearly, his expression shifted instantly.
"Y-you're... you're that..." He fumbled with his words endlessly but couldn't force himself to speak my name. He was obviously terrified of me.
I raised an eyebrow, finding it quite entertaining. Scared of me? If my memory served me correctly, we'd never even crossed paths before, had we?
