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... e, no longer the broken girl clutching her stomach under a blood-soaked moon. No longer trailing behind others. She stood at the forefront now, a weapon honed by fire and time.

And it didn’t hurt to admit... she looked good there.

Proud. Composed. Dangerous.

’So, she didn’t just survive.’

’She became something.’

He exhaled softly, not out of tension, but release. As if letting go of some story he hadn’t realized he’d been telling himself all this time.

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