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Chapter 12: Food (R-18)
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... h the still-sleeping courtyard of the North Wing. It was like an irregular metronome, driven by Damon’s rhythmic breathing. His muscles ached, sweat dripped down his bare chest, and his footsteps marked the floor with dark, steady footprints.
Five in the morning.
Like every day.
But this time, he wasn’t alone.
"Damon?" The familiar voice, slightly muffled by the morning wind, cut through the silence with a slight strangeness.
He stopped. Still holding the ...
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