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“This isn’t revenge, Khaled” She laughed, and the sound ut “That suggests you’d care one way or the other that I’ve left you We both know you don’t”

Every ripped his ht he’d break it, and still, he couldn’t say the things he knew he should The things that collided in the back of his throat, made him ache

The things he couldn’t let himself say out loud, because he knew better Because she deserved better, loath as he was to admit what that meant: that he should never have taken up with her in the first place That if she wanted to leave hiht, he should let her go

His eyes fell shut, and he hated himself He hated Jhurat He hated this reed for a woman he never should have met in the first place

But he didn’t say a word

Cleo was quiet for a , he knew, for him to contradict her He heard a small sound when he didn’t, like her breath let out in a sh, and he detested himself even further

“I’ but ordinary, Khaled” His oords were like a spear straight through hi him, and the worst part was, she said it so ht, were it not for that sharp edge beneath “You should have no trouble slotting a new one in No one will notice a difference Least of all you”

Fury poured through him, black and focused, and that was better That was familiar

“If you want to fight withit in person”

“I tried”

He didn’t shout, but it was a close call “Once”

“It left a lasting impression”

Khaled realized he was h his hair instead But all he could see was Cleo, asn’t in front of him Who wasn’t in Vienna at all, as far as he knew Who had somehow lulled him—him—into a false sense of security and then crept out under his nose

As if he was so uncivilized, so barbaric, that she felt she couldn’t tell hi to his face He didn’t knohat h the emptiness, but he hated it

“I don’t accept this,” he warned her, that fury shifting low, into darkness Into intent