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67

Roman's POV

I hated battle, but I hated the aftermath even more. I made a list of all the fallen I could identify, so I could visit their families later. The ones I couldn't, their family or packmates who saw them fall would have to report to me, and I'd go from there. Max and Seth took Aston's body to the morgue before we were even back.

Fuck that hurt. My best friend since we were in diapers, the one who evened out mine and Max's broody demeanors with his stupid ass jokes. Gone. Fucking gone. What was the point? The point of all this death and destruction?

I stopped in my tracks, shutting my eyes as they became glossy. His death will gut me until the day I die. The day I die? I'm immortal. Fuck. I could live another thousand years, and I wouldn't have seen him for over nine hundred and fifty of them. How is that fair? And CiCi. I have yet to find anyone who wasn't of Alpha blood, or royalty in Armaros' case, that lived past the first year of their mate dying. But we
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