“How many do I have to kill for you to give up on me?” There it was, a final split in the armor she built so diligently around herself. Her expression twisted, and I could see that she hadn’t meant to respond, the words slipping out. “You could make a river of blood run down these streets, and I would still try because I know you, the real you, not this version he created.” She lowered her blade just a fraction and huffed. “You’re wrong.” “If I’m wrong, then so was Gabby, and I know she wasn’t. She wouldn’t give up on you, and neither will I. We can do this dance until this world burns and the
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