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Chapter 12: Clause 6b
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... lted just slightly—enough to register the weight of his words, enough to let them settle between them like a dropped blade.
"Good," she said finally. The word was simple. Precise. "Then we’re thinking the same."
Lucas’s grip tightened around the spoon, knuckles pale.
"I blamed myself," he said, his voice quiet but jagged at the edges. "For not being useful. For not going into heat early enough. For taking suppressants. I thought I’d ruined myself. And I still don’t unders ...
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