“Let’s go, Paris.” He said it quietly, not wanting to make a scene. My throat felt hot and tight. I said, “My name is Amber. You must have me confused with someone else.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I know it’s you.” “No. I’m not who you think I am.” It’s sad to think now how true that was. “You don’t know me,” I said. “I don’t know you.” I gripped the edge of the seat, but the transporter grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the booth. I started kicking and screaming. The goons stepped in with that “easy way/hard way” line, and I couldn’t go the easy way, because I knew they were taking
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