Lena
The alleyway feels like it’s shrinking. My back is pressed against the damp brick, the grit of the mortar digging into my skin, but I can barely feel it. All I can feel is the predatory heat radiating off Max as he stands over the crumpled form of the man who just tried to gut me.
I’ve seen street fights. I’ve seen bar brawls where chairs fly and blood spatters the floor. But this? This was different. Max didn’t just fight him; he dismantled him. It was silent, efficient, and utterly terrifying.
“You’re shaking,” Max says. It isn’t a question. He’s looking at my hands, which are vibrating so hard I have to shove them into my jacket pockets.
“I’m fine,” I snap, my voice cracking. “I had it under control.”
Max lets out a dark, cynical sound that might have been a laugh if there wer
