"You really do have guts," he said slowly, the words measured and carrying a subtle note of surprise beneath the surface calm.
Daniella let out a hollow breath that almost resembled a laugh, though it held no trace of humor. "Guts?" she repeated, her lips curling with bitter irony. "What else do I have left?"
Before he could respond, she shifted forward on the bed with abrupt force, despite the lingering weakness in her body. The blanket slipped down as she leaned closer, narrowing the fragile space between them until it felt dangerously small.
"Here," she said, her voice dropping into something low and dangerously unhinged. She tilted her chin upward deliberately, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat, and lifted one hand to point directly at it. "Right here."
The gesture was provocative, a clear and deliberate challenge.
