"Is that so?" he said, his voice laced with venom. "Then, as you wish."
Dylan didn't even look at me.
Instead, he spun toward his bodyguards, barking orders like he owned the place.
"Keep an eye on her," he snapped. "Don't let her run. Don't let her die. I don't want her leaving this hall before the night's over."
Then he turned to Amara, suddenly gentle, as if she were a delicate doll he needed to protect.
"Amara, you scared?" His voice was all warmth and sugar.
He helped her to her feet, eyes glinting with fake concern.
"Don't worry," he cooed. "We'll get you to the hospital. You and the baby are going to be fine."
Elaine's POV
Amara leaned against Dylan's shoulder, flashing me a smug, triumphant grin.
"Dylan, thank goodness for you," she cooed, her voice dripping with sweetness.
I held my breath as I watched them.
Once they finally left, I was finally able to take a moment to breathe.
However, before I could enjoy a moment of peace, the voices around me grew louder and sharper.
"A dancer missing a leg—what's the difference between her and trash? And she still thinks she's somebody now."