Max
I’m standing in the narrow alley beside the garage, the brickwork damp against my shoulder. I shouldn't be here. I told her I’d let her face the night alone as revenge for her tongue, but my feet had other plans. I’m a hunter, and a hunter doesn't leave his prize unguarded, even when she’s trying to bite his hand off.
Inside the shop, a silver Porsche is idling loudly. A man in a suit that costs more than the garage’s annual rent is shouting at Lena. He’s the type of man I despise—all bark, no bite, hidden behind a daddy-funded lease.
"I don't care about the logistics, girl!" the client sneers. "I need the brakes checked now. Do you know who my father is?"
"I don't care if your father is the governor," Lena’s voice rings out, sharp as a glass shard. "Your rotors are warped because
