Saul’s eyes met mine, and I didn’t have to explain a single thing. He turned so fast the fringe on his jacket flared, and headed with long strides for the door that would take us out toward the exit. I was right behind him. The scar on my wrist twitched under the flayed cuff of my trench coat, and Saul’s stride lengthened into a run.
So did mine.
Lilith Saintcrow, Flesh Circus
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