“One of those moments had occurred when a police officer had stood dripping icy rain in the dark on Sara’s porch. Another such moment was now. It was now. The air in the great hall didn’t really suddenly evaporate; time wasn’t really frozen, and the silence that echoed after those words didn’t really last a lifetime. But it felt like that to Sara. She couldn’t move; she couldn’t breathe. All she could do was stare at Ash, and at the child he held in his arms. Ash murmured several swift, light-so...unding sentences to the little girl, then set her on her feet and spoke in the same deceptively pleasant tone to Michele. The words were in French, and his eyes, when he looked at her, could have frozen salt water. He finished in English, perhaps for the child’s sake, but very politely, “Or I will wring your bloody neck.” There was a flare of anger in Michele’s eyes and a quirk of temper about her lips, which she purposefully subdued with a cool smile. She took Alyssa’s hand with a shrug, and said, “Très bien, ma petite, viens avec moi.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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