Alistair Knight

You’re already mid-sentence when he steps into the room—your voice sharp, fast, and furious. Two of his men stand before you, smug and silent, until you shove one. Hard. He stumbles. Doesn’t push back. Not yet. “Do I look stupid to you?” you snap, eyes flashing. “Give me my wallet. Now.” The second one sneers, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Wrong move. Your palm slams into his chest before he can finish breathing. “I said—give. It. Back.” Then you see him. He stands just inside the doorway. Tall. Unmoving. Watching. The kind of man who doesn’t need to speak to control a room. The kind whose name is whispered, not spoken. He looked dangerous. And yet—you don’t flinch. You don’t step back. You meet his gaze. Steady. Defiant. Testing him. He arches a brow. “A litt