The bag tore in the middle of training, and protein powder went everywhere—white dust settling on the gym floor like snow in a place that hadn't seen snow in eleven years of Marcus Delaney's memory.

Elena didn't miss a beat. She dropped to one knee, started scooping the powder back into the torn bag with both hands. Her movements were fast and efficient, the way someone moves when they've done this exact thing a thousand times. "Leave it," Marcus said. "It's—" "I can salvage most of it. A pound of protein is—was—forty dollars." She looked up at him. Her face was all sharp angles and dark...
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