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... ees. Beatrice had brought her hot tea, but it sat untouched. She stared at the floor. The rush of the night hadn’t faded yet; it lingered like thunder after a storm.

There was a knock. Soft.

She hesitated. "Yes?"

Lucien stepped in.

His coat was gone, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. His dark hair was slightly damp, as if he had washed the blood off quickly and returned.

"I wanted to ensure you were... alright."

She nodded.

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