"Who are you, and what the hell are you doing here?"
The voice that cut through the cool evening air was dark, rough, and laced with something dangerously amused.
It didn't need to be loud—his presence alone carried enough weight to demand attention.
I freeze. He's already caught me.
Shit.
I yanked at my arm, trying to break free from the iron grip of the man holding me.
His fingers dug into my skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me that escape was pointless.
"Leave me alone, you thug!" I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended, fueled by panic.
The man blinked at me—tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in dark clothes that screamed power rather than danger.
His jaw was a perfect cut of stone, his black hair slicked back like he didn't have a single care in the world.
And his eyes—God, his eyes—dark red blood but dark as the night itself, with an intensity that made me feel like he could peel away every lie I'd ever told just by looking at me.
