Sebastian
James Alexander’s piercing gaze locks onto mine. His eyes are a storm, unreadable but charged with something that makes my gut churn.
For a second, I think he might order his men to shoot me right here. But then he raises a hand.
“Boys, it’s okay,” he says, his voice deep and commanding.
The men hesitate, their hands still lingering near their rifles, but they obey, stepping back just enough to show I’m not getting riddled with bullets.
James strides forward, his boots crunching against the gravel, and extends his hand.
I take it, the grip firm, his weathered skin rough against mine. His face remains unreadable, but his smouldering eyes pin me in place.
“Mr. Sebastian Valdez,” he says, his voice measured, “welcome to Austin.”
I try to smile, but my face doesn’t cooperate.
