Blood Roses
a voice snapped above her, low and cold.
She looked up and froze.
Alejandro Delgado.
Dark hair slicked back, sharp suit, sharper jaw. His eyes, gray like an overcast sky, pinned her to the spot. He looked like a man who didn’t flinch at gunfire, but hated coffee stains.
“I… I’m sorry,” she stammered. “It was an accident.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re new.”
“Yes.”
He crouched, picked up the tray, and handed it to her without breaking eye contact. “Next time, keep your head up. People who don’t look ahead usually end up six feet under.”
الفصول الرائجة