The second man stared up at Mike, his eyes wide and dilated, shimmering with a primal, frantic sort of confusion. It was the look of a man whose entire reality had just been rewritten in a matter of heartbeats, the expression of someone realizing that the predator they thought they were hunting was actually the one who had been deciding whether or not to eat them.
He wasn't just looking at a man anymore; he was looking at a force of nature. Mike leaned down, his face inches from the man's, a devastatingly cocky, lopsided grin playing on his lips.
He looked entirely too comfortable for a man standing in a blood-slicked alleyway.
"Now, let's have the kind of conversation that benefits everybody," Mike purred, his voice smooth as velvet and just as dangerous.
He tightened his grip on the man's wrist for a fraction of a second, just enough to remind him of the fragile nature of his bones. "Tell him a man named Mike Hawk is at the lane entrance."
