skilled, in every facet
“You should let go of him.” Colonel Yang’s voice is exceedingly chilling. The air has turned subzero and where he stands, glacial ice forms beneath. His gait is composed and steady, not one bit off-balance, but the undercurrent in his eyes is dangerously dark. He makes his way forward in deathly apparition, his form backlit by the waning moon. “It isn’t a request, but an imperative warning.”
The gravel cracks in motion. Noah thinks things will escalate beyond saving when the man so adeptly flips his knife upward, juggling it between his fingers in warning. The woman lets out a low whistle and deliberately tightens her hold on Noah. She is having too much fun with this that Noah can’t help but glare – though the glare turns into more of a wince when she covers his nose as well, effectively hampering his breathing.