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... s shoulders, forearm hard across her collarbone. The knife rested beneath her jaw, edge angled up, unmoving. Therell’s hands worked the device with practiced certainty, fingers confident, eyes down. Seris stood several paces away, held there by the idea of that blade rather than its reach. Vencian lay crumpled in the corner, face turned toward the wall, body slack and unclaimed by anyone’s attention.

Time had settled around them. Long enough for breathing to fall into rhythm. Long enough ...

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