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33: Wrought iron

Rune’s POV

I lean back in my chair, watching Alora closely as she sits across from me. The brief slip into the past, the ease with which we talked like we used to, it catches me off guard. It’s been years since we had a conversation that felt so... normal.

It was refreshing, almost unsettling. I can’t believe we were talking like we used to back when everything was simpler. Before all of this. Before I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

My eyes raked over her, lingering on her lips, which had twisted into that familiar frown. Those wide eyes were waiting for me to call her naïve again, like I usually do.

But I don’t. Not this time. I can’t bring myself to care about that right now. Her frown, her frustration, it’s not what’s consuming me.

What I remember, vividly, is that sense of obsession I had with her even then. An obsession that ran so deep it made me question my sanity. Back then, I knew she was off limits.

My sister, even though we both knew the truth deep down. But now..
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