He came for her one fog-drenched night. Knocked once on her door, gently. No threats. No anger. Only his voice, deep and steady:
— “Don’t run anymore. You’re already in my city. In my house. With my blood.”
And in that moment, she understood. It wasn’t just her life anymore. Something else beat inside her — something of him.
She looked into his eyes and knew.
It was already too late.
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