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Isaac quickly caught on to my hesitation and gave me a look of disbelief. "What, don’t tell me you’re pitying that guy?"
Unbeknownst to him, the flicker of emotion I’d felt wasn’t directed at Brody Valdorf, but at myself. I saw a reflection I recognized all too well in the sight of that trampled wolf, who desperately clung to the hope of finding someone.
"Pity? No."
It was closer to self-contempt. Besides, pity wasn’t something one felt after slaughtering a thousand ...
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