We’ll find a way to survive. It is no fault of your own that you are not at this moment standing there with your head blown off. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. Then she looked up at Brendon. Rhea writhed and scuttled about like a crab. ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. I'll teach you submission in time.
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