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Her hand shot out and clamped around Owen’s wrist.
Owen yelped. A sharp, startled sound.
“Sit down,” Marsha hissed, her voice low and deadly. “Now.”
William’s stomach dropped. “Marsha,” he said, and there was a warning in his voice he rarely used. “Let go.”
Marsha released Owen’s wrist, but the damage was done. Red marks bloomed on Owen’s skin like finger-shaped continue reading …
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