"I won't hurt you," he said again.
For the third time tonight.
Sofía only nodded, unable to find her voice.
Fernando gently tended to the wound on her forehead.
His eyes drifted over her swollen, bruised face, and rage surged through him all over again.
Those men deserved to die.
Her cheeks were already puffing from their blows.
He was relieved she'd showered.
He couldn't smell them on her anymore.
Now she was wrapped in his clothes, and a powerful possessiveness coursed through him.
His gaze lingered on her small frame drowning in his oversized shirt.
She looked…
Adorable.
The word startled him.
It had never existed in his vocabulary before.
Yet somehow, this girl was rewriting everything inside him.
"W-what h-happened t-to t-them?" she whispered.
Though shaky, he understood.
"I handled them," he replied calmly. "The police would've caught them by now."
As he placed the supplies back into the first aid kit, her voice came again.
"W-who a-are you?"
