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Sixty two: Night -3

Saint's pov

For a weird reason, my heart skipped a beat.

I wasn't supposed to let her out of my sight. Here was too dangerous and she was supposed to be next to me all night.

My eyes danced around the room as I searched for her, feeling my lips press together a bit harder than usual.

Where the fuck was she?!

I searched the room a bit more among the little crowd of people, then found her at the far end of the room giggling away at what some dickhead was whispering in her ears while holding her shoulder.

The fuck?

What the fuck was she laughing at?

She had been feisty the whole evening and here she was, laughing with some guy?

My legs walked faster than my head could think and the next thing, I saw myself matching to where they were.

I got there and grabbed her arm and started walking out, not acknowledging the dude.

I knew she was glaring at me, just by the way she was trying to let go of her arm and resist. But I was done with the whole bullshit for the evening and wanted it
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