Lorelei

Before I could form a response, he moved.

Not fast—not the blur of violence I had seen in the training yards or the compound. Slow. Deliberate. Each step measured, calculated, the gait of a predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run. The space between us shrank with every heartbeat, and I found myself pressing back into the couch, my spine against the cushions, my hands gripping the fabric at my sides.

"I had things to discuss with you earlier today." His voice was low, almost ...