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FORTY-SEVEN

There wasn’t a pause.

There wasn’t time to grab Ford, or to kiss him, or to throw me between him and Reed.

By the time I even thought to do something, Ford’s fist was already breaking Reed’s nose.

I knew it was broken; I heard the awful crunch.

“Get the fuck out of my girlfriend’s room,” Ford snarled, grabbing Reed by the arms. He hauled him into the hallway in about half a second and shoved the guy into a wall, hard.

Ford’s fist reared back again, and I finally launched ...

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