Harlan’s heart sank, the weight of unspoken implications heavy in the air.

Concealing was no longer an option for Mavis, her gaze falling to the floor in acknowledgment.

Harlan understood that her silence held the truth.

“Regarding Derek’s injury, you sought out Bruce in an attempt to exonerate yourself. The plan was to bring him to us and prove your loyalty. But things took a different turn. Bruce ended up shooting you instead. Is that what transpired, Mavis?”

Harlan’s deduction pinpointed the origin of the gunshot wound.

His words struck a chord within Mavis, a poignant pang in her chest.

Guns had been an alien concept in her world until her first encounter with Harlan. Never had she fathomed she’d bear a gunshot wound.

canvas of pride, pampered with an array of skincare products. Even a mere hint of redness would stir

unsightly wound now marked her flesh,

Angela’s Library

tear landed on her pristine trousers, a small rebellion against her

it with her hand. Crying seemed like a

within, a sensation akin to a blade’s thrust. The unfamiliar pain seemed to stir within him, a sign that he was no longer the emotionless figure he once

motion, Harlan extended his hand, a gesture to offer solace to Mavis’ shoulder. But hesitation held him captive-partly due to the

and eat. I’m still hungry,” Mavis announced, her head

his voice stiff, the weight of his

course of their meal, Harlan excused himself, citing an impending matter. Taking the initiative, he settled the

was consistently lost in thought. She harbored concerns that

absence,

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