Micah’s grip was steady, but it didn’t matter. I fought him anyway. I twisted, dug my nails into his forearms, anything to slow my descent into whatever nightmare awaited me. But Micah did not let go. He barely reacted as a sob clawed up my throat, and I slammed my fists into his chests. “Verena,” he growled my name under his breath, so low that I thought I imagined it, but when I looked up into his wide eyes, they bore down on me, warning me. I stopped fighting as he pulled me across the room, the cold floor biting into my bare feet, but sobs still racked through my body.
