Claimed By The Enemy Alpha
And in the middle of it all—he was there, not Jose, but the actual him, Delta bariston, the substitute ruler of the northern rogues who runs errands if I must say but still possesses power.
He was sitting calmly, feet up on the elder's table, scar on his jaw and dark eyes that absorb lights.
Two of his men stood behind him, arms crossed, grinning, like they were watching a show.
Everyone went quiet the moment their eyes landed on me.
The way their heads turned was petrifying because they had accusations, hates, written all over their faces.
Ice poured down through my stomach. My pulse throbbed too loud that I heard nothing.
Breathe.