"What the hell is your problem, John?"Julian’s voice ripped through the foyer like a gunshot. He stood there, jaw tight, clutching a piece of heavy parchment. Don Marcus Hale leaned against the doorframe of his study, his eyes cold as flint. Brooks Step stood by the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, his face a mask of total disappointment."Julian, give me that," I rasped, my hand trembling as I reached out. "That’s mine.""Yours?" Julian let out a jagged, ugly laugh. He looked at the Don, then back at me. "It’s a confession. Carl found it while he was helping Brooks clean up the common area. It’s a good thing he did. We finally get to see what’s actually going on in that twisted head of yours."My stomach turned over. I knew that paper. It was the letter I’d left before heading to the Wall—the one where I’d explained the Tithe contract, the sacrifice, and how their coldness had driven me to sign my life away to the Abyss King."What does it say?" the Don demanded, his voice a low
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