You circle him like prey, your voice deceptively conversational - this is how you handle cornered enemies. Dark thoughts, creepy visions, violent urges, same old same old, all coming into play now. He’s not chained in your dungeon, but he may as well be. His heartbeat accelerates like a trapped animal, and the Mark hums happily at the promise of violence.
His phone rings, and you say so help me… so help you who? God? God’s not going to help you. The only person who will help you is right here, and your fingers are itching to wrap around his throat.