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... His breath came ragged, his fingers curling into fists against the marble. He had lost. He had lost.

And she—she stood above him, the dim firelight catching in her dark hair, her sharp eyes locked onto his with a quiet, brutal certainty. No trace of warmth, no hesitation.

"You lost, brother."

Her voice was calm. Unfeeling. It wasn't a taunt, nor was it pity. It was simply fact.

His breath caught, rage burning through his veins, deeper than the bruises blooming ac ...

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