The strength of his embrace not only didn't diminish, but his arm slowly tightened around Lyra Smith.
It seemed as if he wanted to melt her into his bones, so he wouldn't have to worry about losing her for the rest of his life.
Lyra Smith found it hard to breathe in his embrace, her brows furrowing with discomfort. She raised her hand to try and put some distance between her and his suffocating embrace. But in Morris Jackson's eyes, this looked like rejection.
He dimmed his gaze, his low, icy voice almost broken, "Lyra Smith, don't torture me like this."
Lyra Smith struggled to speak, "Uncle Morris, it's you who's torturing me now..."
His arms were too tight around her, completely confining her in his embrace. She found this sensation unbearable, almost gasping for air.
