What Do I Have to Do to Make You Not Angry?

Cynthia instinctively threw a punch, but the man seemed to have memorized her every move. He swiftly grabbed her wrist mid-swing, twisting both of her arms behind her back and pressing her against the door.

The familiar, cold woody fragrance enveloped her, wrapping around her like a vast net. Cynthia trembled slightly, a flash of astonishment crossing her eyes.

Is it Tristan?

How did he end up in River Springs?

Her mind was flooded with questions, but Tristan, seeing the woman in front of him remain silent, narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint flickering in the depths of his dark gaze. Slowly, he lowered his head, his defined fingers tilting her chin. His eyes locked onto hers without a blink as his deep, cold voice filled the air.

"Why did you come back so late?"

Cynthia's lips pressed together in a thin line, saying nothing.