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Her Imagination

H E R A

Once Dale is gone, Thomas stands up and gently holds my face. "You can take care of yourself. You can take care of your pups. You can do anything on your own."

A tear escapes my eye, and I nod. "I can."

He murmurs softly, running his fingers up my nape to tilt my head back as he stands above me. "You have the choice," he repeats. "But it's not necessary. I understand your struggle, and I'm not here to take it away. You have your survival instincts. You have a royal blood—the Luna of your pack. I respect that. You don't have to fight alone anymore."

I shake my head because this can't happen between us. Not again. "Thomas—" I begin to explain that he can't be the one to assist me. It's not a good idea.

He places a finger on my lips to quiet me. "Will you be quiet and let me take care of you?"

Before I can say anything else, he lifts me into his arms again and carries me to the door leading up to my apartment, next to the bakery entrance. The firetrucks and medics depart, and as
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