“What have you done?” Dallas asked, his voice a whisper.
Some part of his brain protested turning his back on an active threat, but his inability to feel Bree in the back of his mind was so distracting that he couldn’t help it; he had to figure out what was going on.
Kreos just laughed.
Dallas suddenly felt a blinding rage course through him, overwhelming all of his senses and blanking out his vision.
When it returned, he found that he had a hand wrapped around the Witch King’s throat, lifting him off of the ground. The warlocks nearest to him rushed forward to save their leader, but Kreos held up his hand to stop them, still laughing around the hand strangling him.
He was far too calm for Dallas’ liking, as though Dallas was doing exactly what he wanted, and the way he was cackling set all of Dallas’ nerves on edge.
