He shrieked with agony, and clung with desperate tenacity to the roughened stones. He bullied frankly. “She has one, that’s why. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. She cleaned everything, wiped every surface, mopped and scrubbed every last drop of blood. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. Oddly, he was seldom angry with her as Gianfrancesco would have been.
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