Sold to the cursed Alpha
“I trust you. I just… I hate that Ni-ki’s the one paying for it.”
Rowan pulled me into his chest, arms crushing. “He’s not paying. He’s choosing. Big difference.”
I mumbled into his shirt, “Still feels shitty.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, kissing the top of my head. “It does.”
The door opened then, and Ni-ki walked in like he owned the place, all long legs and sharp cheekbones and that stupid pretty face that made everyone stare. He had a duffel slung over one shoulder, black hair messy, wearing tight jeans and a cropped hoodie like he was heading to a club, not enemy territory.
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