"Trust me, you shouldn't want anyone like me on your back."
"Maybe I don't want anyone like you on my back," His eyes darkened as he stepped closer, confining me tighter into barely any space as my back pressed against the wall.
"Maybe I want you. U...
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CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
"REBELLIONS NEED TO BE CUT at the root," The Dark Lord's voice was reminiscent of thunder—brutal and harsh—though his features remained schooled and his tone remained of steel.
Lord Voldemort was a force who could rival thunder itself, his deathly pale skin glistened with an appalling inhuman yet subtle green—thrumming with the Dark Arts his vicious life force thrived upon.
"Tell me why I have to reiterate that very simple fact," The sovereign's tone settled to a menacing edge as he glanced at the present death eaters seated submissively around the table, before his eyes settled on The Red Shrikes.
"Tell me why, after two years, I still have to reiterate that fact."
"You do not have to, my lord," The High Shrike spoke up, leaning forwards at the table, her fair elbows peeking out from the designed cut of her sleeves as she rested them on the table.
"The problem lies with those who choose to blatantly ignore."
The Dark Lord's eyes flashed something as he looked at the French witch, his features molded into a calculative display as he leaned back against his chair, a long bony finger under his thin gray lips as he rested his chin in his palm. The gesture was entirely human, perhaps that was why it briefly sickened Dominique Grindelwald, for she had long since separated The Dark Lord from mortals, in her mind, casting a thick iron barrier in between.
She gathered her bearings, pushed her disgust at the back of her mind and swallowed the rest of it down.
"I won't have conquered lands rebelling," Voldemort spoke after a pause, before he abruptly leaned in and slammed his bony palm hard against the table surface, rattling submissive death eaters as a cascade of startled gasps radiated in the room.
"I won't have it!"
He leaned back again, eyeing those near him before his menacing gaze ventured further and settled on someone.
"Do you know, my High Shrike, that in your absence I have been unfortunate enough to be saddled with continuous reports that rile nothing in me but my displeasure?"
