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... troom packed with tension, nor the scorching blaze of a fire waiting to be tamed. This was something softer. Something grounding.

Camille.

Her body was tucked against mine, steady breaths fanning lightly against my collar. Her weight was familiar, a gentle pressure that anchored me to the present.

A blanket had been draped over us, one that I knew neither of us had placed. I shifted my gaze, spotting Camille's Mr. Dust outfit neatly folded on the chair beside the desk. Ne ...

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