Diana’s POV

I wake up to a gun pointed at my face.

My eyes snap open and the first thing I see is a matte black barrel six inches from my forehead and behind it is a man standing beside my bed.

The moonlight coming through the window catches the outline of him — broad shoulders, thick arms straining the sleeves of a black shirt, gloved hands wrapped around the grip of a pistol.

He’s wearing a mask. It’s a black fabric covering everything below his eyes. And his eyes — god, his eyes. Pale grey, sharp, framed by dark lashes, are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen on...