Kofi, barely conscious, managed to lift his head, his dark eyes meeting hers for a fleeting moment. “Patrocleia…” he warned, his voice a low growl. The name was a warning, a threat, a promise of pain if she dared step out of line. “You grow bold, Patrocleia,” Seraphim hissed, his grip tightening on her arm. The pain shot up her arm, a sharp reminder of her captivity. “Are you forgetting your place?”
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1Dionysus 🍷🎭🍇
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26/05/2025