HANNAH’S POVThe second I smelled their scents mixed together—his bitter like old whiskey, hers sharp with fear—my blood boiled. I didn’t think, just moved, my bare feet silent as I stormed toward the kitchen.Then I saw them.Silas stood too close, his fingers wrapped around Karen’s wrist like a chain. His voice was low, smug, the kind that makes your skin crawl. And Karen—God, Karen—looked terrified. Pale as fresh snow, lips pressed tight, body stiff like a rabbit caught in a trap.Something inside me broke.“Let. Her. Go.”My voice came out rough, dangerous—the kind that makes grown men step back.Silas turned slow, that stupid smirk on his face, but his grip loosened just enough for Karen to yank free. She stumbled back, rubbing her wrist, breathing too fast. I didn’t wait—stepped right between them, putting myself between Karen and him, my pulse roaring in my ears.Touch her again. I dare you.Silas tilted his head, grinning like this was funny. “Hannah,” he drawled, saying my na
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