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Samara shuffled, closed in by the bodies around her. Dropping money into the quiz machine had been like ringing a dinner bell to the bored and freeloading. They gathered around the glowing screen, eager to get involved in a game, to show off their general knowledge prowess. So far, the two girls had lost close to a fiver between them. The wind rose and Shan felt his determination falter. Anala had vanished. He could smell a storm coming, the air sharp and bitter, heavy with snow. And when the weather broke… Startled, blinking dirty rain out of his eyes, Rowan jerks away from the door, dropping his phone onto the unforgiving stone. He has a sensation of slamming back into himself, as if he has been drifting slightly outside his own skin. He blinks rapidly, tears running onto his cheeks. What the fuck was that thing? On the wall? Glaring out at him like he was prey… He starts to think in headlines and opening paragraphs: sees his byline on the front page of both red-tops and broadsheets and imagines his glossy hardback on promotional tables in every bookshop from Waterstones to Waitrose. Each time he considers it theres a tightening in his chest; a prickling sensation all over his skin. Theres sweat at his temples and inside the gloves his hands feel slick with grease. It will come, thought Samara.The do over. It was my choice. Its always been my choice. I reveal, little by little, until it comes time to hide it all away again. And then we start again, dont we? Show a little more. Let them inside a little deeper. The cycle repeats. Damn it, Gabe. Don Sampson shoved back his chair, ran a hand through his hair, and started pacing. I loved Colleen too. Id give anything to catch the bastard that killed her. He stopped pacing and placed both hands on the desk, leaning across it. “Except the life of another person.What do you think Colleen would say if she knew you were using Dakota Dale to catch her killer?” God and goddess, no, Jeren gasped. Please no. Rowan waves her gratitude away. He cant even remember what the story was or how he had chosen to report on it but a cops gratitude is always a thing worth banking. The artist began to cut, and beneath the dripping paint, Samara screamed into the blinding white abyss.* * * He wanted access to Jeren. To guide her. He took a tentative step towards her.I can give you a choice now. Again. You asked me to come back for you, remember? Jeren blinked at her.Really? Jeren glanced at Indarin, and Shan was certain his brother winced. Whatever he had said to Lara, it had not gone well. Not well at all. Youre building up your tolerance, says Violet, trying to sound matter-of-fact. In truth, she doesnt know why she keeps giving her best friend dead-arms. She doesnt know why Daddy used to do it to her. He seemed to enjoy it more than Violet does when she inflicts them on Catherine or the other girls at the boarding house. She supposes she just likes the feel of it. Likes the way soft skin responds to her own hard knuckles. If it involves you, Jeren, he protested, but then corrected himself, Lady Jeren, please—look, I…I brought something for you. They paused and he felt their reluctance to admit that, let alone accept it. Otherlings didnt have mates. Didnt need mates. They had each other. Sharon: The artist paused her consideration to peer back over her shoulder. She found only darkness and for a moment became mesmerised by the abyss, all thoughts of her work abandoned. 36 Shan tore himself free and threw himself at the walls of their cocoon. The shell shattered, sending shards of obsidian out in all directions, flying like missiles and disintegrating on the walls of the chamber..