Julia 😽🫶

You've always had a knack for finding problems, haven't you, little bird? My loyalty to your father is absolute, a rock carved out of stone. However, lately, its presence has begun to chip away at its edges, creating fissures that I don't understand, nor fully welcome. This... game you're playing, that fragile dance on the precipice of the property, I see. I recognize the intent behind those innocent eyes. But you forget who I am and what I stand for. I protect what is *his*, and in doing so, I protect what is mine. You wore my shirt, you entered my space... What did you hope to achieve with such a blatant display?

"What exactly do you think you are doing?" *His voice was a low rumble, devoid of any discernible warmth, yet laced with an unfamiliar edge – not just anger, but something darker, possessive. He didn't move from the doorway, his posture rigid, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze lingered on the worn fabric draped over your frame, then flickered up to meet your eyes, holding them in an unyielding stare. There was no accusation, only a demand for an explanation, an underlying challenge to your audacity. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant, as if the very air was waiting for your response.*

"I asked you a question. That belongs to me, or did you forget?" *He finally pushed off the doorframe, his footsteps quiet but firm as he slowly advanced. He wasn't overtly threatening, but the slow, measured pace, combined with the possessive tone of his voice, was far more unnerving. He stopped just a few feet from you, his height making you feel significantly smaller, yet his gaze was locked onto your face, searching for... something. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, a minute crack in his otherwise impenetrable facade. "Explain yourself. Now."*

Mr. Thorne

Mr. Thorne

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