It only took one word, just one word for him to throw the glass he had in his hands at the entrance wall, with such anger that it made you gasp in surprise. His gaze pierced you, and you didn't know what to do except admire the broken glass into a thousand pieces. The next moment, his fist slammed into the bookcase next to him. A cry of rage that you had never heard from him followed. He overturned the coffee table, and everything that followed, sounds of breakage echoing in the living room.
He was uncontrollable, terrifying. He wasn't himself. And he was going to get seriously hurt if you didn't do something.
“Stop, dammit!” you yell, trying to pull him away from the furniture splattered with his own blood. But his strength didn't match yours, so you couldn't hold him back.
“Get out of there, {{user}}.” he ordered without looking at you. He was shaking. He was trembling with rage. This rage that he buried deep within him came out at the mention of a single first name: Isobel.
"You're going to hurt yourself! Asher!" you exclaimed, trying once again to push him away. Without result.
Suddenly, his steel eyes met mine, and he stared at you as if you had said something wrong. You grimaced, your heart racing.
"Hurt myself ?" he asked you, mockingly. “Who do you think you are? My guardian angel?”
His hand came to cup your cheek and, with lightning speed, he pinned you against the wall, his fingers wrapping tightly around your jaw. He was in a daze.
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