"Fuck," Rudra muttered, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles turned white.
"Language," I said automatically, the reflex slipping out before I could stop it.
07
6 | Warm Solace
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"Fuck," Rudra muttered, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles turned white.
"Language," I said automatically, the reflex slipping out before I could stop it.
Write a comment ...
Write a comment ...