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... an anything he’d ever carried on the battlefield. His fingers curled into tight fists, trembling. My fault... The words echoed in his mind, cruel and sharp.
My fault...
His legs buckled.
He stumbled forward, hands slamming onto the cold floor of the hideout, the smooth steel beneath his fingers turning slick from the sweat pooling in his palms. His eyes stung, but he refused to blink. Refused to cry. But no matter how tightly he clenched his jaw, no matter how hard he tri ...
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