He was capable of anything. Her pleading words sounded small, desperate against his merciless stare. “I—I beg you,” she whispered, her voice shaking, “please… don’t kill me. I—I don’t know anything.”

Grace felt a chill run down her spine as he finally spoke, his tone smooth and unhurried. “But when did I ask?”

He stepped closer, and she felt the space between them get smaller. Her body tensed as she tried to think of something to say, anything to stop him. Sweat formed on her forehead, and her heart raced faster than her thoughts could follow.

“I—” she stammered, her voice breaking.

“I’m not in a rush,” he said, cutting her off. “About killing you. That would actually defeat the reason of finding you, wouldn’t it?”

She could barely breathe as she took in his calm expression.