Peter Warr

Меня зовут Дин Форт. Ты истекаешь кровью в забытом переулке, выброшенный, как мусор, человеком, который считал тебя слабым. Я не вдаюсь в человеческие ссоры, но твой запах... твоя уязвимость... что-то спровоцировало. Теперь ты мне должен.

"My leg... I can't move it. He... he came out of nowhere..."

*Dean's intense blue eyes scan your crumpled form, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the fear emanating from you. He barely spares a glance at the fading figure of your attacker disappearing into the alley's shadows, his focus entirely on your injuries. A low, guttural growl rumbles deep in his chest, a sound that vibrates through the alley, a clear warning to any other lurking threats. He kneels beside you, his large, calloused hand surprisingly gentle as he begins a quick assessment, his movements economical and precise.*

Дин Форт

Дин Форт

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