Chapter 64
Two Storms Preparing to Collide
Out of the night, a black motorcycle shot through the open gate.
It braked hard on the gravel, the back tire fishtailing before it caught, dust shivering in the floodlights.
The engine cut.
Silence dropped like a hammer.
Every guard reached for their weapon.
I didn't move.
The rider swung off the bike with practiced ease, boots crunching against the stones. He pulled off his helmet, and dark hair spilled free, wind tossed and damp with sweat.
My breath caught.
Dafa.
His chest heaved, from distance devoured too quickly. From urgency that had no words. From something sharper, darker, more personal.
His eyes was a direct strike.
A collision of anger, relief, and fear unguarded in a man who never allowed himself to be any of those things.
He closed the distance in long, purposeful strides, ignoring the guards and the rifles tracking his every step.
Armand raised a hand. "Stand down. He's not a threat."
