And then she noticed it—just barely—a faint tremor in his fingers as they rested on the edge of the table.
He was angry.
Aryl's heart skipped for a moment. There was no outburst, no sharp retort—just that haunting composure that somehow felt more dangerous than rage.
He caught her watching and shifted his eyes to hers. She quickly looked away, unsure if it was fear or something else tightening in her chest.
Alina, sensing the thick tension hanging in the air, quickly stepped in. She clapped her hands and forced a cheer, her bracelets jingling lightly.
"Okay, okay—everyone," she said, her tone bright but clearly meant to defuse the mood. "No need to be so tense! We're here to enjoy the evening, aren't we?"
She gave an exaggerated pout. "Let's not make our new friend uncomfortable."
Her eyes flicked to Vigg briefly—just enough to flash a warning—before shifting back to the rest of the group.
