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Twenty Eight

Liv watched Owen go down and an involuntary scream left her lips. “Owen!”

She slides from the chair to fall at her knees, rolling him towards her and cradling his head on her lap. “Owen, honey, wake up!”

She pats his cheek roughly and his eyelids flutter. The back of his head is bleeding and she can feel it seeping through her pants leg. She looks up at the person who hit him, ready to light into them when she notices the gun pointed at her face.

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