Angela's POV
The driver’s door of the black car opened slowly. A familiar figure stepped out.
Ian Bennett.
Shit.
I shoved my own car door open and got out fast, closing the distance between us.
My palm slammed into his face before he could say a word. Hard.
Ian’s head snapped to the side. His hand came up reflexively, fingers brushing his cheek.
I was already standing right in front of him.
“That,” I said, my voice shaking with barely restrained fury, “is for almost killing us.”
For a moment, he didn’t move.
Then he turned back slowly.
His face tightened, jaw clenched, eyes dark. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths.
Then he laughed.
Not warm. Just a low, broken chuckle that made my skin crawl.
“You know,” he said quietly, the remnants of laughter still clinging to his v
