Chapter 3 The Dame Who Bites Back

Alexei Turner was in a foul mood, storming out of the Turner family's grand mansion. Halfway home, he bailed on his ride, leashed up his dog, and figured a walk might shake off the bad vibes.

Big mistake. Or maybe the best one he'd made all night.

He stumbled right into a scene straight out of a gritty movie. A stunning, broken-looking girl—like a rose that'd been stepped on but was still fighting—stood cornered by a pack of lowlife creeps.

She was delicate, sure, but the fierce, do-or-die spark in her eyes? It hit him hard. Reminded him of a scrawny wolf pup he'd survived with in the mountains when he was ten.

All growl, all claws, defending its patch of dirt like it was a kingdom. Fragile, but burning with stubborn life.

That wolf ended up dead by his hand.

This girl, though? She was the same, flashing her thorns, ready to draw blood from anyone who came too close.

When she snapped a guy's arm with that cold, untouchable vibe, it was like nothing could faze her.

Alexei, usually as warm as a glacier, watched with a flicker of interest. Then, for reasons he couldn't quite pin down, he waded into the mess.

Up close, the girl was a knockout—face one'd remember in their dreams. But those big, clear eyes? They hit like a sucker punch, glittering like they held every star in the sky.

When she shot him a shocked look, he felt it in his gut.

His fingers twitched, itching to shield those piercing eyes staring right through him.

'Screw it,' he thought. 'If I am in, I am all in.'

Plus, he could use a good brawl to burn off some steam.

The thugs' screams came fast and loud. If they were just sore before, now their bones were ground to dust.

They were kicking themselves now. They'd been paid to spook her, nothing too heavy—boss's orders: no obvious marks.

But she was too gorgeous, and the idiots got greedy, thinking they could sneak a cheap thrill.

Huge mistake. The beauty was a viper, striking hard and fast. And this random guy who rolled up was like death himself. They had no doubt—if killing was fair game, their necks would've been snapped already.

This was a disaster. A total trainwreck. The head goon was sweating buckets.

Meanwhile, Alexei strolled back to Natasha, who was sprawled out, watching the chaos. He smirked, voice dripping with snark. "Quick hands, but you're too soft. Gotta yank the weeds out by the roots, or they'll just creep back. So, princess, what's my reward for saving your ass?"

Natasha, who could've handled it herself and now owed this guy, just stared.

Alexei frowned. 'She's a mess.'

He reached to yank her to her feet, but—bam—he got shoved forward, crashing right into her.

His body hit something soft, his hand grazing her injured arm, and his other hand… well, it landed somewhere even softer.

Way too soft. New territory. Alexei, caught off guard, gave it a quick, dumb squeeze.

New territory. Alexei, caught off guard, gave it a quick, dumb squeeze.

The real troublemaker? His dog, dragged out for a walk and then ignored, now sat off to the side, blinking like a kid caught stealing cookies.

Natasha, squashed under his weight, sucked in a sharp breath.

Pain shot through her arm, and this guy—hot or not—was still parked on her chest. Her cool mask cracked, turning feral.

Her first words to him all nigh. "Nobody ever tell you?"

"What?" Alexei blinked.

"Don't poke your nose in street fights."

Before he could blink, her slim arms yanked his neck down, and crack—her forehead slammed into his like a wrecking ball.

"Officer! Help!" she hollered, voice cutting through the night. Sirens wailed as police barreled toward them.

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