Ciaran turned and tore back through the trees, unheeding of the boughs and branches that clawed at him, drawing blood as he passed. Brenna must have known the others already knew, and she’d sent him away so he wouldn’t have to see –
Wouldn’t have to see her kicking and writhing as they held her down in the water, have to see the froth of bubbles as she tried to breathe. His voice lodged in his throat when the bubbles started to fade, because it meant she’d stopped trying, she’d given up, or it was already over, and –
They’d killed her.
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