<186 The Man Who Wasn’t a Rogue
And yet he came to kill. That part settled between us like iron.
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I finished cleaning, changed into dark trousers and a long tunic, tied my hair back, and
strapped a knife at my thigh out of habit more than need. By the time I stepped into the
corridor, the house had quieted into that tense watchful stillness that comes after
violence visits a home and everyone pretends routine can force safety back into place. A
guard was waiting for me outside my door.
“Alpha says the cell.”
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