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... t figuratively. I needed to feel my fists connect with flesh. Needed to hear bones crack. Needed to remind myself that I was still capable of something other than sitting behind a desk and signing paperwork.
Three years.
Three years of being Alpha. Three years of meetings and negotiations and political bullshit that made me want to tear my own hair out.
Don’t get me wrong. I’d wanted this. I’d fought for this. I’d nearly died taking my father down.
But nobody tell ...
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