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... ng my hair in that iron vice of his fingers.

"My apologies, Father," he said with mock grace. "I forgot... you like your meals fully undressed and seated properly before the feast begins."

Undressed?

That word hit me like a fist in the gut.

My stomach twisted.

My skin crawled.

Apparently, that ritual started with stripping the offering bare.

Like I was some sacrificial lamb laid out for gods long dead and forgotten.

I wasn’t trembli ...

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