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... stood what that meant. Her hand, which had been holding Ryan’s, dropped as if all the strength had drained from it.

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"How can something like this happen to me? Ryan, dance has always been my passion. I had worked so hard for it. How can I lose the only thing I had? I can’t, right?" Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Ryan gently reached out to caress her hair, offering her the hope he knew she desperately needed. "Del ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

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Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

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