Chapter 70 The Crossfire
The door slammed open with such force it ricocheted off the wall. Silas filled the doorway like a storm about to break, black coat flaring behind him, eyes ablaze with something darker than fury. His tailored suit clung to his powerful frame, but the man inside looked unraveled.
Genevieve didn’t flinch. She sat upright in the cold metal chair, wrists chained to the table. Her navy blouse was wrinkled, her curls disheveled, and her eyes, those storm-gray eyes, bore into him with unwavering defiance.
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