Wood turned to look at him. O'Higgins mounted the stairs, his step extraordinarily light for one so heavy. Wood. He's young and sound. ‘You make me talk, you make me talk. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound.
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