The air crackled with tension, the silence punctuated by the sharp intakes of breath from the gathering crowd. Paulina, her face contorted with rage, her voice a venomous hiss, lunged towards Ariadna, her hand reaching out to grab her arm, her fury a storm cloud that threatened to engulf them all.
“You little-” she began, her voice laced with venom, her words a torrent of insults and threats, fueled by a potent cocktail of jealousy and alcohol.
Benedict, his heart pounding in his chest, his instincts screaming at him to protect Ariadna, reacted with a speed that surprised even himself. He grabbed Paulina’s arm, his grip firm, his gaze fixed on her, his voice a low growl.
“Don’t you dare,” he said, his voice a warning, his tone a mixture of anger and protectiveness. “Leave her alone.”
H
