Page 22 of I See You

Harper looked like she was turning the dude down. Whatever he was offering, she wasn’t interested.

But he didn’t like that.

She tried to walk around him, but he reached out, grabbing her arm. The second his fingers closed around her, both Hassan and Roman moved. They didn’t even have to say a word to each other.

But before either of them could reach the man— BAM!

The shortest one of the group swung first, her fist landing dead in his face.

The sound of the hit cracked through the air, and within seconds, blood was pouring from his nose.

Hassan paused for a split second, eyes flicking to the woman.

Damn.

She was strong. But that didn’t deter his focus from the real issue at hand. The nigga who put his hands on Harper. Hassan didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the man roughly by the front of his shirt, lifting him up with ease until they were eye to eye.

The man’s face drained of color instantly.

"I-Ice," he stammered, recognition dawning in his eyes.

Hassan smirked coldly. "Oh, you know my name." His voice was low, lethal. "So you know what’s about to happen, right?"

The man’s entire body trembled.

Behind him, Harper’s soft voice cut through the air. "San, chill."

But it was too late.

Hassan didn’t believe in letting shit slide. That was weakness. And weakness got men killed.

As he turned slightly, his gaze flickered to her—

The woman who had caught his eye earlier. She was watching him. But not with fear. Not with judgment. With something else. Somethingdeeper.

Her expression was distant, yet there was a warmth in her gaze— like she wasn’t just looking at him. She was seeing him. Like she could see the storm in his eyes. Like she understood it. The thought made something shift in his chest, and for a brief second, he felt it.

A crack in the ice. But he ignored it. Pushed it down. He had no heart left for that shit. No feelings to care. His cold gaze snapped back to the man still shaking in his grasp.

"Apologize."

The man’s lips parted, stuttering like his tongue forgot how to work. "Fuckyoustutteringfor?"Romansaid,histonemocking."You wasn’t stuttering when you grabbed her arm."

The man swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing. "I-I’m sorry."

The second the words left his mouth, Hassan struck—cutting off his windpipe with one quick, precise hit.

Themancollapsedinstantly,gasping,clawingathisthroat, desperate for air.

Hassan turned to Roman, calm as ever. "Rome, you know what to do."

Roman nodded, already motioning for their men to grab the gasping fool off the floor and haul him out the back. He knew the drill.

By the time Hassan turned back, Harper was glaring at him, arms crossed over her chest.

"Was that really necessary?" she asked, unimpressed.

Hassan’s face didn’t shift. Didn’t move a muscle. Like he hadn’t just stopped a man from breathing with one hit.

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