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me break down like that.

Anger burned through Sophie’s veins, but it cooled just as quickly,

tempered by sorrow that came with knowing he’d been crying because

of her.

But then she remembered something Lady Gisela had told her

during one of the horrible conversations they’d had through Keefe’s

old Imparter: She’d made Keefe take that sedative not to silence his

sobbing, but because she needed to steal some of his blood.

THERE’S the rage I was looking for, Keefe said as Sophie’s whole body

shook. Hold tight to that!

She tried.

But the more memories she studied, the more her heart broke for

him.

She skimmed as much as she could, but some flashes demanded

attention. Like the loud argument in Keefe’s too-fancy bedroom,

where Lord Cassius loomed over a younger, scrawnier version of his

son and shouted, “Alden is not your father!”

“I wish he was!” Keefe snapped back, tearing off his blue Level Two

cape and flinging it across the room.

“Well,” Lord Cassius said, smoothing his slicked blond hair and

glancing at Keefe’s mother, who stood off to the side studying her son

through narrowed eyes. “I suppose that makes us even, since I much

prefer Alden’s sons. But since I’m stuck with this”—he gestured to

Keefe from head to toe and crinkled his nose—“I’m not going to let

you ruin our family!”

Keefe smirked, and Sophie could feel something inside him shift as

he said, “Good luck with that.”

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