“No,” Alexander murmured, his hand slowly reaching out, his knuckles brushing against the edge of my jawline where a drop of rain was slowly trailing down. His touch was warm, surprisingly gentle for a man whose name made hardened criminals weep in interrogation rooms. “You are not a weapon. You are the only clean thing left in my world. And I will burn this entire city to ashes before I let Arthur Lane or Marcus Ashford lay another finger on you.”
I shivered, unable to pull away from his gaze. There was madness in those grey eyes—a dark, possessive intensity that terrified me far more than the mercenaries in the street.
May you like
“Pack whatever remains of your father’s belongings,” Alexander whispered, stepping back toward the doorway. “Your life as a maid ended tonight, Sophia. Welcome to the war.”
