Amanda’s pov.
The moment I was done eating, I moved the plates aside and fixed my gaze on Asher. He looked calm, composed and not at all like someone that’s about to be barraged by about three million questions.
I took note of his appearance first, tired, strained and carefully neutral in terms of appearance. He still looked good, dressed in a worn sweater and faded jeans, his hair was a mess of curls on his head, almost like he spent most of his time running his fingers through them. I forced myself to tear my eyes off his breathtaking face and his magnetic eyes.
“You haven’t answered my question,” I finally broke the silence. “Are you going to wipe out my pack?”
He doesn’t respond for a long time, in fact, judging by his facial expressions alone I couldn’t even tell if he’d heard me
