The instant I opened the door, a furious roar came crashing down on me. "How many fucking times have I told you? Don't touch my stuff!"
I froze in the doorway, my fingers tightening around the handle of my suitcase. Two men were facing off in the living room, the air so tense it seemed ready to split apart. The one with his back to me wore a black tank top. His shoulders and back were knotted with muscle, and the sweat-soaked fabric revealed an astonishing strength. He clutched something in his hand, his knuckles white. He looked like a cornered beast ready to lunge and tear someone apart. The one facing me seemed calm
