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Chapter 89

Maeve

Wyatt gently places me down on a bed. The innkeeper told us to get some rest before she attempts to heal my eyes. She used up most of her stamina, patching up my wounds and stopping the bleeding—it no longer feels like I'm leaking.

"I shouldn't have brought you with me," Wyatt says as he crashes down behind me. "It's my fault that Bob and Garett died."

His sheer weight got me tumbling into him, and his arm falls over me, holding me in place. It sounds like he is crying. It breaks my heart because I feel at ease with him, safe. He is like a giant teddy bear, but right now, he is vulnerable, and it tears me apart.

I suck oxygen into my lungs, fully aware of my heartache. "Hey," I whisper at Wyatt, holding his shaking hand. "It's not your fault that they died—we didn't know Marcus had a bomb, and Bob made his own decision to save me."

"I know, I'm just..." He is breathing into my neck with his curly locks brushing against me. It tickles. I

Veliciah

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