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... ays.
The Cradle’s pressure still lived somewhere behind his eyes—heat that refused to cool, hunger that refused to fade. His body had mended, but his nerves hadn’t caught up. Every breath still felt like it might split him apart again.
Sleep had become a myth. Food, irrelevant. The only thing that remained clear was motion—forward, always forward.
Then came Erin.
Her gaze, her questions, the weight of her suspicion—it had been like standing beneath a star and pret ...
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