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Victor’s presence was a wall at her back, broad and steady, his slow breathing a low rhythm she felt more than heard. In front of her, Voss lay half-curled, one heavy arm draped across her waist like he’d decided, sometime in the night, that she might wander off without him. His hand rested open against her stomach, warm and possessive even in sleep.
She didn’t move at first.
She let herself exist there.
The vault was quiet in the way only dangerous places ever wer ...
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