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... his breath caught in his throat, and his dagger raised high in his right hand. The moon peeked through scattered clouds, its light reflecting faintly off the blade still damp with blood and the night’s humid air. His shadow loomed over the woman sprawled before the door of their home.

He knelt.

One hand reached out, trembling, to touch her shoulder—cold, like a stone that had long forgotten warmth. He pressed gently, pushing her with deliberate care to avoid any sudden sound.

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