He’d opened the front door to the main Pack house and found his twelve-year-old granddaughter standing there with her two half-sisters. The other two weren’t his granddaughters. His daughter had taken in the offspring of her worthless ex-boyfriend because that’s what she was like, his Carlie. She’d taken those girls in and raised them like her own. Without question. Without resentment. And because it was the right thing to do, as far as Carlie was concerned. So when Charles opened the front door and saw those three girls standing there, dirty, bruised, with that wounded look in their eyes . .
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