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A Finger on the Coffee Table

Sera

“No,” Delaney pleaded, trying to tug her wrist free from my grasp.

We faced the closed door of Killian’s office. Male voices came from the other side, muffled and unintelligible.

“We must,” I said.

“No,” she said again. “I’ll go back to my room. I’ll be good. I swear. Just don’t make me go back to the basement.”

“You deserve answers. He can’t keep you like this. Be brave, Delaney. For your father.”

Her bottom lip trembled, but she lifted her chin at the mention of her father, and I saw a devoted daughter in her watery gaze. I saw myself. At least, the version of myself that used to exist.

She nodded, and that was all the permission I needed.

I shoved the door to Killian’s office open so hard it bounced off the wall. Eight men dressed in fine Italian suits stood around the room. Killian’s back was to me from his spot in front of the fireplace. He didn’t turn to look at the disturbance, but every other head in the room whipped toward me. Delaney hovered over the threshold, her brav
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