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... or slept in days—which, honestly, might’ve been true. His hair was a mess, his jaw locked so tight I thought his teeth might shatter, and his eyes? Pure feral rage.Yeah, Kane was on the verge of snapping.But who said I didn’t have my own shit to deal with?Unlike Kane, I wasn’t pacing like a caged animal or throwing maps across the room. I was handling this my way. Which meant drowning myself in whiskey, leaning back in my chair like I didn’t have a care in the world, and ignoring the growing st ...

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