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TOB 60

TOB 60

ROSE AMARA POV

I rub my eyes, convinced I’m seeing things. It must be a trick of my mind, a remnant of a dream that refuses to fade.

But when our eyes meet in the dimness of the room, reality crashes in with brutal force. A jolt of recognition shatters through me, stark and undeniable.

It’s him. Ethan.

The same Ethan I left behind in that warehouse, his presence commanding the space despite the shadows obscuring his features.

His hand clamps over my mouth before I can react, stifling any protest that might have escaped my lips. Words dissolve in my throat; fear and confusion mingle in a tumultuous whirl. It’s like an out-of-body experience, detached yet achingly present.

In the scant light filtering through the balcony, I discern bruises marrying his face, a cut etched across his lip, traces of blood smudged in the creases of his skin.

Despite the injuries, the contours of his face are achingly familiar—the sharp jawline, the stormy eyes that once both infuriated and captiv
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