It was only at this point, where sympathy came through, that he realized how much he'd been drawn into it; enough to drop the cruelty and give the small insight into his own lack of capability to love. That had never been meant to be said, and he'd fucked up and said it. His lips curled back even as she stepped forward, and his body was shoved against the door once more as a snarling whirl of teeth snapped through the empty window pane. He was not laughing anymore; Andrezej Lykoi could not say he was amused by this game, this mere girl who had managed to preoccupy his mind enough to get even that small amount of sincerity, no matter how twisted, out of him.
Don't ever forget that I'll kill you on sight,
he snapped bitterly into the small room, drawing back from the window. For a moment he regarded it — would it be wise to leave? — but he wasn't sure she could even escape on her own. The coyote's ears tipped back over the lengthened mane that, one day, would be worn in a mohawk, grey fur appearing even darker in the grim light, and then growled once more at the cinnamon wolf hiding in the security room.
Have fun getting out of here, bitch.
And then he turned and, with the quick pattering of his uncovered feet on the collected dust, he was off through the labyrinth, back the way he'd come. He was not letting her live so much as he was sick of her protection, and he would find her where she could not hide, and that would be the day he killed her.