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... d leading me toward the door.

We didn’t speak. Just walked. His grip was steady, firm—possessive in a way that should have scared me, but didn’t. Not yet.

We moved through the corridor, down a narrow set of stairs. The air shifted the deeper we went, growing colder, denser. Reeking of insecticides, bleach, and something sharper—like hospital-grade antiseptic clinging to forgotten sins.

The scent alone made my stomach twist.

But it wasn’t the smell that chilled me. ...

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