His eyes, pools of molten gold, glowed with an intensity that transcended the physical. Yet, within that radiant allure, there simmered a tempestuous undercurrent― a silent storm of anger. The usual warmth in those golden orbs was eclipsed by shadows, casting an unsettling veil over their luminescence.
As he fixed his gaze on Daphne, it felt as though the air itself quivered in response to the unspoken fury contained within. The usual spark of vitality in his eyes now resembled smoldering embers, threatening to burst into flames at any moment.
Daphne had seen Atticus angry before― there were more times than she could count. However, each time, there was a bit of amusement that was mixed with his grievances. This time, however, it was pure frustration that could only be described as murderous.
