"…Physical…ha…harm?"
Steve's voice cracked as he mumbled the words. Disbelief flooded his wide eyes, pooling behind the trembling in his throat. It made no sense. None of this made any damn sense.
"There's no way." he whispered to himself, as though repeating it might make it true.
"That's bullshit—" he suddenly shouted, eyes flaring.
"There's no way in hell. No way in hell! I didn't even lay a finger on her!"
His voice echoed in the cold marble chamber of the Queen Witcher's inner sanctum. The space was too quiet, too still for his outburst.
The velvet drapes shifted slightly from the wind slithering through the stained glass windows above, but no one spoke.
Only the Queen Witcher stood there, hands folded before her, her eyes unreadable—watching him with that same quiet smile that twisted his gut into a knot.
She didn't say a word. Just smiled. That infuriating smile.
"I didn't touch her." Steve said again, weaker this time, as though trying to convince her… or himself.
