The stunned Bartholomew gaped as if spellbound by a witch. Unable to move, his knees turned to water as a burly security guard bore down on Alex.
Alex took three steps back, his face paler than any Borax wall.
Do something. Anything.
Do something. Anything.He grabbed one of the wooden boxes, ready to shove it off the shelf. But then instead of pushing, he lowered his arms.
Father an artist? Why didn’t she tell me?
Father an artist? Why didn’t she tell me?Bartholomew crouched down to peer through the gap between the shelves. The guard was huge, six foot five at least, with shoulders broader than any Shadow Swine. He stretched his mitts toward Alex, and his friend retreated,
But the behemoth matched him step for step.
His twitching leg urged Bartholomew to leap out and fight. That’s y
