Alexander appeared in the courtyard looking like fury personified, his platinum hair disheveled and his gray eyes blazing as he took in the scene—Julian and me on the ground beside the fountain, my arm bleeding, and the debris from a car that had just tried to commit murder in broad daylight.
“What the hell happened?” His voice carried across the chaos, sharp enough to cut through the panic.
“Someone just tried to run us down with a car,” Julian said, helping me to my feet with careful hands. “Very direct approach. Much less subtle than chandelier sabotage.”
Alexander’s gaze fixed on my injured arm, and something dangerous flickered across his features. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s just a scrape.”
“It’s not just a scrape.” He moved toward us with predatory focus, and I could practically see h
