Noelle POV
When Thorne left, he acted normal. Too normal. But I know my husband—every shift in his expression, every subtle change in his breathing, the slight tightness in his shoulders.
He was furious.
I followed, curious, knowing that when Thorne gets like this, something will happen.
And I was right.
By the time I reached him, Veyron was already gasping for breath, dangling in the air like a fish on a hook, Thorne's hand wrapped around his throat, his strength making it look effortless.
Had I arrived a few moments later, he would have snapped the man's neck like a twig.
Would that have been such a bad thing? No.
Would it have been satisfying? Absolutely.
But death is too easy.
Thorne doesn't look at me at first when I step forward. His fingers twitch, his body rigid with the urge to finish the job.
I let out a soft breath, pretending to contemplate something.
Then I speak. "Knock him out."
Thorne hesitates. Just for a second. "Wait—"
Too late.
