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... is windows. Light, noise, motion but none of it touched him. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel, jaw tight enough to ache.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t lose control. Not again.

But the moment Sharon said his father’s name, every wall he’d built inside him cracked.

Victor Langley.

Of course it had to be him.

When he finally pulled up outside Zion’s apartment, the familiar calm of the place did little to ease him. Zion was already waiting ...

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