Ian paced the room, arms folded tightly across his chest. A knot of confusion twisted in his gut. What in the world was happening? Beric lay sprawled on the floor, half-conscious. Lady Mereloff, bound and seething, perched on the edge of the sofa. Even restrained, she held herself stiffly, back ramrod straight, a fierce, determined glint in her eyes.
"What the hell…?" Ian muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Lady Mereloff," Ian said, his voice dangerously low, "we have much to discuss."
The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
"You will explain everything," Ian continued, his gaze unwavering. "From beginning to end. Make me understand. Otherwise, we will both find ourselves in a… precarious situation."