“What are you saying?” he snaps, knowing exactly what I’m talking about. I see it in his eyes. He knows. He fucking knows. “You’re good at reading me, York, at least you were once upon a time. So fucking read me,” I challenge, glaring at him. Beside us Dax curses, he reaches for me, but I snatch my arm away. “Don’t you dare touch me, Dax.” York keeps his gaze fixed on me and I let him do what he always did so well when we were kids. A second later, he tips his head back and lets out a strangled cry, before slamming his fist into the wall of the warehouse. The skin covering his knuckles split
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