All he could see was the man who’d tried to rape the woman he loved. He struck blow after blow, pummeling him to the ground until he didn’t get up. And still it wasn’t enough. Alex drew out his dagger, lifted the “knight” up by his surcoat, and held the blade to his throat. For the first time in Alex’s life he knew the kind of raw hatred and murderous rage that could make a man forget honor, chivalry, and whatever other tethers of humanity kept him fit for a society. Brigand. The old accusations he’d hurled at Boyd came back to him. Maybe he had more of it in him than he realized. Gifford must
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