The command ripped through the room, low and lethal. The sound alone made her heart stutter in her chest, her eyes flying wide as if the voice itself had seized her.
Her head jerked toward the doorway. The light behind him cast his figure in shadow, blurring his features into darkness but that voice… it was impossible to mistake. It carried a force that branded itself into memory.
He stepped forward, and the light shifted. His face emerged from the shadows, sharp and severe. The moment his cold olive eyes locked onto hers, recognition struck.
Damien Ruiz.
Mr. Frosty.
"And who the f**k are you?" Benoît sneered, arrogance dripping from every syllable.
Damien didn't answer.
He stood there in silence, yet the quiet around him felt anything but empty. It was heavy. Dominant. Predatory. The air seemed to bend around him as he took another deliberate step forward. Benoît didn't retreat not even an inch.
"Is she your chick?" one of the goons taunted.
Still, Damien said nothing.
