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“Eliot Spencer,” Damien Moreau’s voice is soft but firm, rolling Eliot’s name over his tongue like he’s savoring it, like he’s been waiting years for this moment.
Eliot shakes Moreau’s hand. Meets his eyes for the first time, and something about it feels like coming home.
Looking back, Damien might as well have carved his heart out with a knife.
He should have known then.
This is the way the world ends—not with a bang but a whimper.
