His voice was like a barrel full of gunpowder, ready to be lit. William went still as a statue. “You’re not her type,” Gideon continued. “That’s what she’s been trying to tell you. You should have taken the loss and left her alone.” William licked his lips, staring at the door over Rune’s shoulder. “And what is her type, Captain Sharpe?” Rune studied the witch hunter in the shadows. Stupid brutes, apparently.
