Diana’s POV
I wake up to a gun pointed at my face.
My eyes snap open, and the first thing I see is a matte black barrel six inches from my forehead, and behind it is a man standing beside my bed.
The moonlight coming through the window catches the outline of him — broad shoulders, thick arms straining the sleeves of a black shirt, gloved hands wrapped around the grip of a pistol.
He’s wearing a mask. It’s a black fabric covering everything below his eyes. And his eyes — god, his eyes. Pale grey, sharp, framed by dark lashes, are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen on a person.
And they belong to a man who’s about to put a bullet through my skull.
My heart is slamming so hard I can feel it in my skull. The sheets are pooled at my waist and I’m naked underneath because I sleep naked
