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Chapter 8

If she has to do it, she must do it right. Willow closed the journal and put it back in her bag. Her hands accidentally brushed the red file that Guild's head gave to her. She backed her hand as if it had been burned. The red file laid there at the bottom of her bag, taunting her to open.

Without looking at it, she closed the bag and dialed the phone number Reagan.

She refuses to call the Guild's head. If she wants the details, she can ask Reagan. And she would bet her last penny that Reagan would make her sweat before indulging her. Good. That old crone deserved it.

"Reagan, we have a situation," Willow said glumly in the form of a greeting.

Reagan, sensing the seriousness, kept her mouth shut. Willow relayed what she saw in those warehouses to Reagan. Reagan for her part kept quiet and didn't ask questions.

After she filled her in, Reagan said, "this is more serious than we thought. I don't think you should be handling this alone. Shit Willo

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