Chapter 71 Hating One Killer While Bedding Another

• Anya freezes, her eyes wide and locked on Ric’s hand, which rests around my waist. Her expression shifts from shock to anger in an instant, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words come. Then, in a strained voice, she says, “I can’t do this,” and spins on her heels to leave.
• “Anya, wait!” I call out, my voice breaking. I step forward, reaching for her arm. “Please don’t go.”
• She stops but doesn’t turn around. Her shoulders heave as though she’s holding back tears. When she finally turns, her face is twisted with barely restrained anger. “Tell me what’s going on,” she demands, her voice trembling.