PREVIEW

... gers wrapped around the dagger’s hilt. The metal felt unusually cold against my palm.

Fiona’s lips trembled—not from sadness, but rage. "You’re making a mistake."

"No," I said. "I’m correcting one."

I could do it now. One quick motion.

But not here. Not with witnesses.

I grabbed her wrist, pulling her across the lobby to an empty conference room. Before we got to the door, she yanked free. Stumbled back.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To have ...

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