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My stomach tightened. I had seen that name before. Sergeant Williams. One of Marcus’s friends from his unit. He had messaged me twice after Marcus asked him to check whether my care packages arrived. Nice man. Big laugh in the background of phone calls. Always called me ma’am even though I told him not to. “What does it say?” Sandra demanded. Monica’s thumb hovered. “Don’t read my messages,” I said, louder this time. Monica smiled and slipped the phone into her back pocket. My mouth went dry. “Give it back.” “Or what?” Brett said. I took one step toward him. Sandra raised her hand again. That was when the front door slammed open so hard the chain lock snapped against the wall. Cold air rushed into the apartment, carrying the smell of rain and asphalt and something metallic from the stairwell. A shadow filled the doorway, tall and broad, boots planted on the threshold. For half a heartbeat, my mind refused to understand what my body already knew.
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