“I’ve killed people,” Rowan stated flatly. That jerked me out of my rant. His face was expressionless. His eyes weren’t twinkling. They weren’t dark and raging. His features weren’t soft or hard. He was just… blank. Like he’d left behind the man I knew in order to convey this information. “When I was deployed,” he continued in that horribly blank, vacant voice. “I saw shit. Bloated corpses that had baked out in the sun. I saw people get their limbs blown off. My friends. Watched a woman carry her dead child along the street. And I killed someone’s child. Someone’s brother. Someone’s father.”
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