What was the point of good looks in the face of danger? Would anyone spare a looker's life just because they were handsome? If anything, they would be the ones who bolted the quickest when trouble started.

Men like that were simply undependable.

Soren clapped Frank mockingly on the shoulder just then. "Bro, be a man and admit that you don't have the balls to stop the fight, or you'd get hurt. And you were laughing, weren't you? Shouldn't you be grateful and say something after I bailed you out?"

Frank simply smiled and shook his head—these kids were beneath him, and he would just be humiliating himself by getting petty with Soren.

Nash quickly hurried to them to mediate. "It's alright! The whole thing is behind us now. Let's just go."

Then, turning to Kat, he added, "I told you that you shouldn't go out this late at night. Places like this are especially dangerous. Come on, we're leaving."

and snapped impatiently, "Don't touch me! Leave if you want—you

very late, and I'm worried." Nash frowned, at a loss for words

the door. "Did you help us when those bastards came to harass us?! They were at fault, but what did you do?! All you

for your sake, Kat," Nash reasoned. "It always pays to be safe out here—there's no need to let things

dog. That's why I hate staying home—because I hate your face! You're always weak, so I'm begging you to just stay away from me and never show

stunned by the image his own daughter had

then remembered the wife he lost and took

to speak, even though all he wanted was

"What are you doing here? Leave, and take your guest with you! I don't want to see

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