He grabbed my wrist as I went to leave again. The gesture could’ve been threatening, but his fingers were gentle on my skin. Turning me around, he lifted my hand between us and gestured to my ugly knuckles. “Is he the one you punched?” I pulled myself from his grip and stepped back, away from the Alpha and his barrage of questions I wasn’t ready or willing to answer. “Why does he think you’re his?” Roman prodded. I wanted to punch him in the face at that point.
