Without a moment's hesitation, Seraphina Sterling lunged forward, fruit knife in hand. The intruder seemed to anticipate her move, evading the blade and seizing her wrist in one fluid motion. In the pitch-dark room, his eyes were incredibly deep, like those of a ferocious leopard hiding in the shadows—biding its time, waiting for the perfect moment. It wouldn't strike unless the blow was guaranteed to be fatal.
"Terrence Grant?" The moment he seized her wrists, Seraphina knew. The sharp, killing intent she projected instantly subsided. Her soft voice, tinged with confusion, was like a feather tickling his heart.
"What are you doing here?" Seraphina tried to turn on the light, but Terrence didn't release her. Instead, he pulled her into his embrace.
