Amelia didn’t move.Her body locked where she stood, breath trapped halfway in her chest, eyes fixed on the man stepping out of the shadows.Lawson Reynolds.Same height. Same broad shoulders. Same cold, piercing eyes that had once made her feel like prey in her own home.And that smile.That slow, cruel smile that used to follow her into nightmares.“No…” The word barely left her lips.Her fingers curled tightly at her sides, nails digging into her palm as if pain could wake her up from whatever this was.Because it had to be a dream.It had to be.Lawson was dead.She had seen it.She had lived through it.Maxwell had—Her breath hitched.The man took another step forward, boots scraping lightly against the concrete. “You look surprised, Amelia.”Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.That voice.It sounded like him.Too much like him.Her chest rose and fell sharply. “You’re not real.”The man tilted his head slightly, studying her like he used to—like she was something to b
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