She never made contact.
"Do you want to lose that hand?"
The voice didn't shout. It didn't have to. It was a low, gravelly whisper that slid into the space like a blade of ice, slicing the oxygen out of the air.
Bella froze mid-swing.
Damien stood inches behind her. The weight of his killing intent rolled off his massive frame, paralyzing her on the spot. If she moved her hand another millimeter toward his wife, he would snap her wrist like a dry twig without a second of hesitation.
Slowly, shakily, Bella lowered her arm. The adrenaline evaporated, leaving her trembling under the weight of her own mistake.
Aria didn't flinch. She hadn't even blinked.
She stepped forward, effortlessly claiming the space, closing the distance until she was staring down at her pathetic, shaking sister.
"Get out of my house, Bella," Aria ordered, her voice cool.
Bella had no power here. She had no allies.
Desperate for a final scrap of leverage, Bella leaned in.
