Return of the Broken Heiress
The bottle in my hand smashed against his head with a crack.
Glass exploded, sharp shards littered on the floor. The room loaded with the sharp gasp of the others, but I didn’t care.
Didn’t fucking care.
Because no one—no one—talks about Darla like that.
I grabbed his collar, yanking him forward, my face inches from his.
“If you so much as touch a hair on her head,” I growled, my tone dangerous, “I swear, I will kill you.”
Joph groaned, gripping his bleeding head, his breath heavy with shock and pain. But I wasn’t finished.