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Chapter 43 - Forty Three
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Chapter 45 - Forty Five
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... mind did not go to the race. It did not go to the heat of the sun, or the noise of the crowd, or the tightness in her chest.
It went, instantly, to a small, dark, dusty shed that smelled of gun oil.
It went to Carcel. To his cold, logical, brutal rejection. To his words: "I will likely die. From your brother’s hand." It went to the slam-door of humiliation. The rejection. The cold, aching disappointment. He was right but does her feelings have to be based on what society thinks i ...
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