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... , my fingers clenching the hem of my sweater as we walked on the uneven dirt path toward the pack house, and as we passed by several pack members, their eyes were trained on me with questioning gaze.
Dominic’s stride did not falter as he gripped my hand tighter. “They will respect my choice,” he remarked, with a faint hint of frustration that he did not bother to hide.
Respect his choice? The concept felt foreign to me now, like something out of reach.
“You don’t understa ...
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