Chapter 8: Remnants of Restraint.

Vincent Virenson.

Restraint was never my strongest virtue.

In fact, if anyone asked, I’d say I’d rather pull a trigger than bite my tongue, rather burn the world than let it cage me. Yet here I was—jaw tight, fists curled, pulse racing—not because of a gunfight, not because of some rival cartel breathing down my neck, but because of her.

Violet Valley Virgilson.

She stood there, her defiance dripping from every curve of her body, her eyes like ...