The rain slid down the car's window, the world outside moving on as usual, but Ryley's mind stayed behind, trapped in what had just happened.
The young florist had tried to lunge at him with the scissors, but Oliver reacted first.
He vaulted over the counter and drove the young man to the floor, pinning him there before he could get anywhere close to Ryley.
"You're not going to get any answers from me, Mallaithe!" the florist snarled.
The timid image he had worn earlier was completely gone, replaced by a crazed look as he spat the cursed name at Ryley.
"I don't need answers from a fork-tongued coward like you," Ryley replied in a cold, even tone.
The florist let out a mocking chuckle. "Big words, for someone who schemes so much, huh? You're no better than us!" he snapped, then bared his teeth.
"I'd rather be a coward than live as a slave to Purebloods like you!"
Ryley would be lying if he said the insult hadn't stung.
