Cyrus Blackwood There were days when I wished ignorance had stayed bliss. Today wasn't one of them. I was halfway through dismantling the punching bag hanging in my private gym when my phone buzzed across the bench beside my towel. Sweat dripped from my forehead as I ignored it, driving another punch into the leather until the chain rattled violently above me. The ache in my knuckles was welcome. Physical pain was easier to deal with than the constant war going on inside my head. Wren. She had occupied every waking thought of mine for weeks now. Was she sleeping enough? Was she eating? Had her mother gotten better? Were those bastards still watching her? The questions never stopped. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at the screen. Marcus. The investigator I had connections with. Immediately, my posture stiffened. Marcus never called unless he had something important. I grabbed the phone before the third ring. "What?" "I found something." Those three words we
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