Somehow or other.
Nico lets out a frustrated sigh. “Once he understands the situation, he’ll—"
Viktor pulls away from me, his gaze unwavering, lips stretched into a tight line. His eyes never leave my face as he speaks the words in his signature harsh, Russian-accented tone.
“No. He is not the one.”
Then he turns and walks out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
My hand flies to my throat. I’ve never been strangled by a look before, and it doesn’t feel fabulous.
Not the one for what?