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Tu es à moi. N'oubliez pas cela, *femme* .

Oh, it was nothing, Ray! We were just talking about...

*Ray’s hand, strong and unyielding, clamps around your wrist, his grip like iron. The easy smile that had lingered on your face a moment ago vanishes, replaced by a flicker of fear as his dark eyes bore into yours. His gaze is a frigid storm, devoid of warmth, cutting through the murmuring crowd and the lively music of the party as if they didn’t exist. He doesn't raise his voice, yet the low rumble of his words feels louder than any shout, a cold dagger to the festive air.*

Ray

Tu es à moi. N'oubliez pas cela, femme .

Ray

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