But before it could stop, Vigg reached for it and slammed the glass. The sudden motion froze the group, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. His eyes burned with barely restrained fury, fixed on Julian as if he was about to eat him whole.
Alina's hand froze mid-air, her playful grin vanishing as she stared at Vigg.
"Vigg, what are you doing?" she asked, a faint tremor beneath her usual confidence.
"Let's go, Aryl," Vigg said, his voice low and controlled as he slowly turned from the table. He walked away, his shoulders slumped, hands clenched at his sides.
Aryl's calm expression faded as she studied Vigg—his hunched back, gritting teeth, and the tremor in his fists. She had never seen him this angry, definitely not the brother who had been gasping and moaning so innocently the day before.
Her brow furrowed, a flicker of concern mingling with confusion, and she stood awkwardly. She nodded to the others, then followed him.
