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... a deepened, rattling the leaves above her head like thunder crawling across the canopy. The men around her all tensed at once, their bodies dropping into instinctive battle stances, claws half-formed, muscles pulled tight like taut bowstrings.
But Isabella did not flinch.
She did not even blink.
Instead, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
The wind shifted. Her hair lifted. And with a soft flick of her fingers, a delicate pink and white fan materialize ...
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