My Fated Mate

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Chapter 11 The Weaver's Trap

The air in the guest suite grew thick, smelling of ozone and stagnant water. Sarah backed away from the heavy oak door, her heels clicking against the cold marble floor. Hestia stood motionless, her flint-grey hair shimmering in the dim light, but it was her eyes that held Sarah’s gaze—wide, glas...

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