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She swore she'd locked her door last night.
So why… did he know otherwise?
A black Maybach.
A crescent moon that shouldn't feel this warm.
Fingers brushing too close when a seatbelt refuses to let go.
Eyes unreadable.
Walls of glass and gold bowing to his name.
And one whispered warning that made the air burn.
She should run.
Instead… she follows him inside.