“Let. Me. Go,” I spit out. “Shut up.” The vinegar of his scent stings my nose. He’s even more worked up now. And I’m in even deeper shit. “I may not be allowed to kill you, but I can make you hurt a whole fucking lot before I—” “Can you, though?” A male voice interrupts him. It travels in our direction from some place in the thicket of trees. A rich, slow curl, at once vicious and detached. No answer exists that could faze this voice. “Can you really, buddy?”
Oh daddys home
