Harshly, you were dragged into your room — feet scuffling against the hardwood flooring. Dutch had a serious gaze, his brows furrowed.

“I’ve told you time and time again to quit sneaking out. When will you understand?” The man stressed, closing the door behind him. He was utterly pissed. He was paid to be a bodyguard — not babysit.

“How can I protect you when I don’t even know where you are?” Dutch hissed, a vain visible on his forehead.

This was a man you wouldn’t want to cross.