Willhound is Mine
⸻ Genevieve Glass shattered. The sound sliced through the air like a scream. Bullets tore through the living room windows—fast, unforgiving. Before I could process it, Saint Laurent’s weight slammed into me, knocking the air from my lungs as he shielded me with his body. We hit the ground hard, his arms locking around me like steel. I could feel his heart thundering in sync with mine. When the barrage of gunfire paused, I pushed up on my elbows. “I’m not running,” I snapped. “You’re not armed,” he bit back, grabbing the pistol under the side table and chambering a round with a swift flick of his wrist. “I’ve taken down men twice your size with a pen,” I growled. “You don’t get to make the rules just because you’re playing bodyguard today.” “This isn’t training, Genevieve. They’re he
- Writer
