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... shoulders, in the hardness of her grip around the arms of her chairs. Damien’s pacing had ended ten minutes earlier and now Damien stood stiff as a statue, arms crossed over his chest, jaw snapping on every few seconds.
Zara had gone mute. That was enough to arouse alarms itself.
And then, finally—footsteps.
Rolan appeared among the trees like a storm cloud brewing, shirt crumpled, dirt smeared across one sleeve, a scratch spreading red on his jaw.
"Where the hell ...
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