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... g, it isn’t fear."
***
Isolde’s amber eyes locked onto the slight figure who tripped and stumbled through the tunnel. Flinched at every sound. His face a mask of terror.
He moved like a man being led to his own execution. Each step reluctant. Each shadow a potential threat. His teammates barely looked at him. Too focused on their own survival to spare much attention for the weakest link.
Yet something about his movements struck a discordant note in her mind.
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