Alaric
I gestured toward the old man, motioning for him to take his seat. Dietrich lowered himself back down slowly, his wrinkled hands gripping the head of his cane for balance. I could tell he was still watching me, that sharp, calculating gleam in his eyes that reminded me of a vulture waiting for something to die.
But what truly caught my attention was Bryan.
The bastard looked far too pleased, his lips curved in that self-satisfied smirk that made me want to wipe it off his face permanently. He actually thought this little revelation about the mark had tilted the odds in his favor. I could see it in his expression, in the way his chest puffed slightly, like a peacock flaunting its feathers.
He thought he could win Kelly back.
How pathetic.
Bryan Shamrock was the kind of man who
