“You know it’s my weakness,” I breathe out. “You know you’re my weakness.” “Then come back to me,” he says, softer, his voice pained now, pleading. I’m unprepared for how quickly it unravels me. I had been braced for a war; I had entered the car with my armor on, my weapons sharpened. I can do that. I can fight him if I have to. But not this. Not him with his guard lowered, his sword dropped to his feet, his palms open, empty, searching.
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