“You want to know what’s going on with me?” The low and ominous tone sends a shiver of dread through me. Then I notice his hands are shaking. “Yes,” I whisper, though suddenly I’m not sure I do. “When I was eight years old, I paralyzed my best friend because I didn’t know what I was capable of…what kind of violence is inside me. It didn’t stop there.” He closes his eyes briefly—long enough for a deep V to form between his brows. “Every day of my life is about control. And that control doesn’t exist when I’m this close to you. I’ll never make that mistake again. If I unleash that shit on you,
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