Armani’s POV
I couldn’t believe it.
The one person in this entire world who had the audacity to walk into my room uninvited, the same person who had just sliced open my arm and my side with a knife, was now standing right in front of me. Riley. Looking straight into my eyes without flinching.
And I wasn’t having the urge to kill her.
Not even a little.
What the hell is she doing to me?
I could still remember the first time I took a life. I was ten years old. My father stood behind me, hand on my shoulder, pride radiating off him like heat from a fire as I pulled the trigger. He told me that was the only way to survive in this world — blood, violence, control. Now he was gone, buried six feet under because some bastard assassin took him from me. And here I was… becoming soft. Weak. Al
