Chapter 27 The Confessional and the Frying Pan

SLOANE

“So your solution is assault?” He took one deliberate step forward. I picked up the frying pan and tightened my grip on the handle, knuckles bleaching white. “What’s wrong, Winters? Can’t handle a word? Gotta resort to domestic violence?”

I barked a laugh—sharp, ugly, unrecognizable even to...

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