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quietly.
Her grip faltered, just a fraction. “By who?”
I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know yet.
And because the truth was already there in the room between us. She wasn’t asking out of curiosity. She was asking because she needed a target.
My name is Emma. I’m thirty. The last time I saw my family, I was nineteen. Brooke accused me of trying to steal continue reading …
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