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... nd his shoulder, his hand which had been limp by his chest, suddenly twitched as he flexed it.

Thankfully! I brought a couple of potions with me! he thought to himself, knowing that without them, his arm would have been completely useless—something he wouldn’t have been able to use again if he hadn’t immediately healed it.

His gaze moved to the book on the last shelf, even as a nasty smirk crept onto his face. He stared at the book, confident that Violet had just opened it and pi ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

……………………………………………………………

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