"Who," Alexander asked again, "put their hands on you?"Thalia's first instinct was to lie, to say it was nothing, to keep some scrap of control over a night that had already taken everything else. But his eyes hadn't moved from the marks on her wrist, and something in his stillness told her a lie wouldn't survive contact with him."Drayle's men," she said. "One of them, outside my office."Something shifted in Alexander's expression — not quite anger, something colder and more controlled than that."Which one.""I don't know his name.""Describe him.""Mid-forties. Cigarette smoke. He knew my father's schedule, my office, which street I park on." Her voice was steadier than she felt. "He grabbed my wrist and told me the company was the first thing Drayle would take. Then the people."Alexander crossed the room and picked up the phone on his desk without dialing anything, just holding it, thumb resting on the button like it was taking real effort not to press it yet."Silas," he said
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