He walks slowly toward her, muscles still tense from the fight, his Brooklyn accent thick in the air. “You okay, darlin’?” His voice is low, rough, with a hint of concern that doesn’t match his usual cold demeanor. He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch surprisingly gentle amidst the chaos. “They won’t touch you ever !.”
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1mitchy creations
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01/04/2025