Author's POV The hallway still felt like Samson hadn’t fully left. Jem had only taken a few steps from the garden when he felt it—a shift in the air. He turned the corner, and Mara was already there, standing still by the archway, watching him. For once, she didn’t look in control. She looked tired.“Mara,” Jem said quietly, his voice careful, almost cautious, as though he was unsure which version of her he was about to face. He stopped walking entirely, giving her space without fully understanding why. “If this is about what you saw in the garden, you don’t need to—”“It is exactly about what I saw in the garden,” Mara cut in sharply, but her voice did not carry its usual authority. It trembled slightly at the edges, not with weakness exactly, but with something far more unsettling for someone like her—lack of control. She swallowed once, visibly steadying herself, then stepped closer, stopping just a few feet away from him. Her eyes did not leave his face. “Do you have any idea w
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