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Chapter 13: Targets of the Black-Haired Curse
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... ly around his stomach. His long lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, and his breath was so faint it could barely fog a mirror.
Silas dropped to one knee beside him, expression carved from stone—but his hand, when it reached out to check Lucien’s pulse, trembled.
For some reason, it trembled.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, then slid an arm beneath Lucien’s shoulders and lifted him with practiced ease, like he weighed nothing more than a feather.
He di ...
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