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SEVENTY TWO

EWAN’S POV

The hot water had felt like heaven against my skin. I'd scrubbed until I was sure every trace of shame and fear had washed down the drain, but the memory of what happened in that shed still clung to me like smoke. When I finally turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my waist, I felt almost sane again.

I cracked the bathroom door and peered out. Eamon was pacing back and forth across the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His dark hair caught the sim light of the ...

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