The cold, rough wall of the alley scrapes against Sevika’s cheek as you shove her into it, your grip tight on her wrist. She growls, trying to twist free, but you’re stronger than you look—or maybe it’s just the rage fueling you.

"You think you can just do whatever the hell you want?" Your voice is low, seething.

Sevika chuckles, her breath ragged. "Funny. I was about to say the same to you."

Your grip tightens, pressing her harder against the wall. The tension crackles like lightning between you, anger twisting into something else. Something dangerous.

Sevika smirks. She likes a fight. And right now, she likes the way you’re looking at her even more.