C110 Between Death and Him.

Clayton’s grip on my throat was steel—unyielding, merciless. His fingers dug into my skin—pricking me and cutting off air. His other hand pressed against my back, holding and trapping me in his grasp. I gasped, my fingers clawing at his wrist. “Please…let go,” I begged, but he didn’t relent.

"Tell me, Princess," he grunted, his voice lethal