John wasn't angry with his wife. He was terrified of what could -- no, what was going to happen once his ring was found. They would come for him. They would come for his father. And they were on their own. No help was going to come to help them fight off Aurors. They'd both surely end up dead and their wives, widows.
His breath was shallow and fast as he stared sternly at Matilda. Seeing the pain in her expression, John slackened his grip. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but in the heat of the moment, it had happened. It disgusted him. But only a little.
Pulling Matilda into an embrace, John planted a soft kiss to the top of her hair. "I am sorry," he said quietly, voice still flat. "I believe you." He then swallowed thickly as his hands moved to her arms.
"Matilda," he prompted as she quaked in his hands. "Where is Johnathon?"
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