“They don’t friggin’ approve!” Craig thundered. “I’m the boss and they don’t approve!”
Aella was already walking out, closer to the zone between territories, where flowers grew. “What’s their reason?”
“They say bringing Mist to Smoke is more dangerous. They say I’ve lost my mind.” Craig began kicking random rocks. His anger was real. “Your fault, Aella! Your fault! This was your idea and—!” He let out a kind of roar, clenching his fists tight. He even stomped on flowers. In the end, he gripped her shoulder with one hand and drew his other arm back.
He was desperately in need of a punching bag.
“Hold it,” it was the voice of Dallas. Aella had squeezed her eyes shut for a moment when things got out of hand—when Craig’s temper got out of hand—so much she thought her plans would literally go up in flames. But when she heard the cold voice, she opened her eyes.
The key player.