"W-What are you doing?" I stammered, my voice trembling.
He stayed silent, his tall, imposing figure advancing and forcing me into a corner.
I couldn't retreat any further. His grip on my arm held me in place.
"What are you doing? Can you not grab me like that?" I tried to sound firm, though my voice betrayed me.
Soren didn't respond, merely looking down at me with a near-indifferent expression. Beneath his calm demeanor, though, I sensed a flicker of anger—something unsettling in his eyes.
We moved like this—me backing away, him pressing forward—until I was cornered, my back against the wall.
I frowned, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Why did you stop? Aren't you going to back off anymore?" he finally asked, his voice dripping with an almost smug satisfaction, like a cat that had finally cornered its prey.
Humiliation burned my cheeks, the sting of his teasing cutting deeper than I wanted to admit.
Even a mouse would bite when cornered, and I was no meek, helpless creature.
