Chapter 97 Ninety Seven

The Wine Press 2.1k words

Sydney's POV

Dylan smiled smugly, his palm caressing my back until he stopped at nape. "Good girl…" he drawled. Then his grip on my nape tightened so hard that I almost winced in pain. He snarled, "And if it doesn't?"

I smirked then as I bent to pick up the gun that...

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