The Mafia’s Reject
I stumbled forward, and before I could hit the ground, a strong arm shot out and caught me.
My book fell to the floor with a thud, but all I could focus on was the searing heat of his hand gripping my waist, steadying me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Alaric’s voice was low, dangerous, and far too close.
I looked up, my wide brown eyes meeting his stormy grey ones. For a moment, all I could do was stammer, my brain struggling to come up with an excuse.
“I…I heard something,” I managed. “It sounded like someone was hurt. I was just—”
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