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Two messages.
Three messages.
It just won’t stop.
My curiosity gets the upper hand on message number five. Who the hell is texting her at this hour? I cut across the room in no time, reaching for her phone and checking the sender.
Chance.
She also has three missed calls from him. Why in the fuck is her ex-boyfriend blowing up her phone? I skim over his first two messages, his warning making my blood run cold.
Chance:He’s out.
Chance: And I think he’s coming for you.
