Clare POV:
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" he shouted, voice so loud, so raw, that it echoed through the broken frame of the front door. His other hand shot to his hair, tugging at it in frustration before his eyes locked back onto me like laser beams.
I swear I could hear my heartbeat banging in my ears.
Then came the charge.
I barely had time to process it. One second he was a step away, the next he was on me, grabbing me by the neck and pressing me back, fast and hard, until my spine met the wall with a dull thud. The towel I'd used earlier fell to the floor behind me with a whisper of betrayal.
His hand gripped me like a collar, not choking—but more than threatening. Controlling.
Yep. He was pissed. Nuclear-level pissed.
His hand clamped around my neck, not tight enough to choke—but firm enough to make my survival instincts scream. My hands flew up, instinctively trying to pry him off, but it was like trying to move a stone pillar with spaghetti arms. No budge.
