The corridor outside the private room was much brighter than the dim interior.Henry carried Jennie in his arms, a suffocating pressure radiating from him.Instinctively, Jennie looped her arms around his neck to steady herself.“Nick, get the car,” he said, his voice low and sharp.That was when Jennie snapped back to her senses. She lowered her gaze and saw a large, shocking smear of blood across his shirt.“I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice still trembling as she struggled slightly. “That’s not my blood.”When she fell, she had been pinned underneath. A fruit knife had been lying beside her, dropped by someone in the chaos. The blood on it belonged to Cindy.Henry stopped short.They were suddenly very close. Close enough for Jennie to catch the clean, crisp scent of cedarwood on him, mixed faintly with tobacco, filling her lungs without warning.His heartbeat was strong and steady beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.It was a sharp contrast to his expression, which
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