Aspen
Trafficking.
The word echoes in my head.
But it’s not the danger that hits me first.
It’s Dylan.
My eyes snap toward the hallway.
Toward his room.
Where he’s sleeping.
Unaware.
Unprotected.
My stomach twists.
“They know he had this…” Havoc says.
“And now we have it.”
My breath catches.
Which means—
“They’ll come back,” I whisper.
Not for me.
For what we have.
For what they think we know.
My arms wrap around myself.
But it’s not fear for me that settles in.
It’s fear for him.
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