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... ugh me.

My instincts reacted first. My stomach twisted. My fingers went cold. I flung the stack across the desk.

Lewis didn’t.

He picked them up calmly, one by one, studying every detail. His face didn’t change, but I felt the shift in him. The air around him thickened. Quiet. Controlled. Dangerous.

The last photo wasn’t Lincy.

It was Silas’s grave.

The image had been altered. Edited. Staged.

At the foot of the headstone lay a severed head, ...

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