Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” “Your brother is fucking my wife,” Armstrong says, rather loudly. Thankfully there aren’t very many people out here, and the chatter and music from the ballroom filters into the foyer with the opening of the door.
Bane’s lip curls and he claps a palm on the back of Armstrong’s neck, holding tight and getting in close. “You might want to keep your voice down, unless you’d like your nose broken again. I promise, cousin, no amount of surgery will make your face pretty again when I’m done
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