Lorelei

The silence between us was a living entity, thick and charged with unsaid threats. The only sound was the rustle of my absurdly extravagant skirt and the harsh rhythm of my own breathing.

His grip on my hand was a band of iron, his fingers digging into the already bruised flesh with a casual cruelty that made my eyes water. I tried, just once, a small, desperate tug, hoping to ease the pressure.

It was a mistake.

His fingers tightened instantly, a brutal, bone-grinding squeeze that ...