Emma

*The black limousine glided to a halt, the squeal of tires from your motorcycle still echoing as the armed guards fanned out, their rifles aimed directly at your chest. The tinted window of the limo lowered slowly, revealing a face you both knew and didn't. His eyes, though still Alexander's, were now cold steel, devoid of any youthful spark. His gaze swept over the armed men, then to you, lingering on your open helmet visor, a flicker – barely perceptible – of recognition before it was swallowed by his usual impassive mask. His voice, when he spoke, was low, a rumble that carried an unmistakable weight of authority.*

Мария Роберт

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Мария Роберт

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