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MY DEAR SISTER
It was only at that moment that Ophelia discerned the shadow that lingered in Noah's crimson glare.
Luke with his free hand grabbed Noah by the collar, in his mind he had already killed Noah a thousand times. The veins in his hand were ready to burst with tension and anger. Noah pressed down with his knee when he felt him fight back. Luke winced in pain, cold sweat dripping down his temple.
“Perhaps you have come to forget the position you are in,” Noah hissed through the tightened jaw, pressing the palm of his hand on Luke’s neck. “Here is a kind reminder that you are a prisoner. If it hadn’t been for your sister's empathy you would be dead by now. She has been more than kind to allow you to rattle that mouth of yours. However, if you dare disrespect her again–”
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