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Chapter TWELVE

  We enter the mansion through the large iron gates, looking exactly how we feel: sore, tired, and in desperate need of a hot shower.

  My kneecaps are grazed, the soles of my feet are cut up and my clothes look like I've been attacked by a grizzly bear. 

  All while, Ace doesn't have a strand of hair out of place or a spec of dirt staining his clothes. 

  Trent comes into our line of vision as the front door yanks open, his arms crossed against his broad chest, preventing us from entering.

  "How did you two get so fucked up?" He spits out with a scowl on his face and his words are heavily coated with interest.

  "We were targeted on our way home from the hospital, which resulted in a shootout with the Irishmen." He draws me in closer to his body, pressing mine flush against his. "And this beauty right here eliminated the majority of them." His voice is brimming with pride.