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His sight zeroed in on her left thigh, the one marked with her Dark Horsemen’s tattoo. He rammed his jaws together, the muscles ticking away.
She’ll mourn me till the last, and she’ll mourn me the most.
Cutter ached to turn away from the pain darkening her eyes. He hadn’t considered what his life might mean to a woman. Greta’s love was undying, unless he was harmed or died. Her flaming spirit would curl up into itself, leaving her to roam the world like a ghost. Tilting his head toward the ceiling, he stifled the roar building in the back of his throat.
“Look, I get it,” he gritted out. “s**t got out of control when those pricks came looking for a fight. It shouldn’t have gone down the way it did. I misjudged the situation, and by the time I got involved, the first punch had already
