/1/112937/coverbig.jpg?v=35f6cbe04e463133416857fe01c6f46b)
phone against Carley Holman's pa
ped so tightly in her other hand that her knuckles were entirely white. The automated voice o
erling
n her gut. She had just turned the phone on ten seconds ago. She
ng instantly too tight. She swiped the green
ad. I
rough the line. It wasn't a greeting. It was a statement of ow
to press in on her. "Dad, I actually have a place lined
er that always made her throat close up. "What place is better than home? Martha h
I nee
it," Sterling ordered. "Do
ne wen
weight pressing down on her shoulders. Her grand plan for independence, her desperate need to stay away from the
wheels of her suitcase dragged he
familiar face broke through the crowd. Clara Bishop was jumping up and do
ut of her. "You made it! Are you ready for freedom? The ap
limply at her sides. She shook her head, a
" Carley
smile vanishing. "What
r of her chest, trying to ease the sudden ache.
anger. "How can they do that? You are twenty-four
ing is," Carley sai
voice to a harsh whisper. "What about
s. Carley's blood ran cold. The tips of her fingers went num
said, her voice shaki
n Carley's rigid shoulder. "Looks like you lo
an standing near the curb. He wore a pristine
d bowed his head slightly. "Miss Holman. Welcome home. Mr. and
like a needle sli
er wrist. Carley squeezed once, a silent plea. Fighting Hank meant fighting
tight. "Can you handle the apartment agent f
ll handle it. Just... protect yourself,
et go of Clara's han
incoln Navigator sat idling. He opened the heavy rear door. The silver Newton family
nt of expensive leather and chemical
mmed shut, s
dow at the blurring city skyline. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She wasn't going ho

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