They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. She moved her hand off of his knee, deliberately slow. ‘We needn’t murder Lucia. “Yes, he made them all. And this shall be your diet till you die. " "I wish I could have foreseen. ‘If he had, he’d have found the sword, see. She's my mealticket. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere.
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