Chapter 38.
The morning sun was a cruel, bright blade cutting through the gap in Briar’s curtains, but it wasn't the light that jarred her awake. It was the heavy, rhythmic thud of the front door downstairs and a voice that carried the authority of a man who owned the house. "Where's Briar?" Archer. Briar’s heart leapt into her throat, performing a frantic cadence against her ribs. Beside her, the mattress shifted. Victor was waking up, his large, tattooed frame radiating a drowsy, dangerous heat. He started to roll toward her, his arm reaching out to pull her back into the cocoon of the sheets. "What?" he rumbled lowly, his voice thick with sleep and the deep, gravelly register that usually made her knees weak. Then came the sound of boots on the stairs. Heavy. Fast. Archer was coming up.
- Writer
