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... n Toby tightened just a fraction.
’...I should leave.’
The thought wasn’t new. It had been festering in her chest since the canyon. Since he saved her.
She looked down at her hands—hands that knew how to hold a dagger, how to slit a throat, how to kill in silence. They didn’t belong holding a child. They didn’t belong in this warm house, wearing this soft dress.
She was a slave. A weapon discarded by Elena and picked up by a man who was too bright, too overwhelmin ...
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