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... ply on Eleanor.
She stood against the floor lamp, her silhouette rigid and frozen, her fingers clenched into fists, her slender shadow drawn taut like a bowstring at its breaking point, as if any slight movement from him would unleash an invisible arrow piercing through his skin, bones, and heart.
She herself would shatter, fragmented.
He replied, "Yes."
Eleanor suddenly collapsed onto the floor, and Cillian swiftly sidestepped the sofa, his arm threading under he ...
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