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... ood floor. I woke slowly, wrapped in warmth and the scent of coffee brewing downstairs. For the first time in weeks, my body didn’t jolt awake expecting danger.

The bedroom was everything Tony’s grandmother must have been - warm, lived-in, and loved. Pictures lined the dresser showing a woman smiling with Tony’s green eyes. I could see where he got his sharp jaw, the way he held himself like he owned whatever space he occupied.

Voices drifted up from the kitchen. Tony’s low rumbl ...

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