Amelia's POV:
"You beat her?"
I watch Precious's jaw muscles tighten as he utters the words. It's a question, but his tone is firm.
Our chests are mere inches apart, and I'm enveloped in his masculine smell.
He appears relaxed, in the crisp white shirt and inky black trousers, but his gaze is piercing like a beast on the hunt. The tie hangs askew around his neck. The sleeves are rolled up casually, revealing tanned arms as solid as tree trunks. Every movement he makes oozes raw power.
Henry narrows his eyes, looking Precious up and down, probably measuring him. He doesn't look like a normal werewolf considering his warrior-like physique and formidable strength. But it's hard to tell whether he's ranked or not through his mysterious aura.
"It was a misunderstanding, Preciou—" Henry p
