“Kivra,” Azraal said breathlessly. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m telling you to let him go,” she snarled.
Azraal released me and stepped toward her, towering over her by a good twelve inches. “Why?” he hissed.
She glared up at him, nostrils flaring, eyes blazing. “Doesn’t matter why. Just fucking let him go,” she repeated.
“Or what?” Azraal growled.
She narrowed her eyes but said nothing. The two of them stood there for a good thirty seconds, staring each other down in intense silence.
“You don’t have the strength,” Azraal finally said. “You can’t take me and expect to win.”
“You don’t have the balls,” she returned. “You can probably take me, but you’re not confident enough to pick a fight.”
“Maybe I don’t have to,” he replied coolly. “You can’t protect him forever.” And then he was gone.
I stared at Kivra uncertainly, trying desperately to resist the urge to look at her chest.
“You need to learn some tricks,” she said sharply, stepping toward me. She appeared frustrated. “Better study up. I don’t want this saving-your-ass bullshit to become a regular thing.” She reached her hand out. I flinched, but she clamped her fingers firmly on my shoulder.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome, you pussy,” she said disdainfully. And then I was standing in the hallway outside Winston’s office.