Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. “But where are you going? Lucy, you’re safe here. “Don’t you understand, Nigel,” she said softly, “that it was precisely for this I have worked so hard. She heard the sounds of Rhea scuttling about, and then feeding, brutally. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John.
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