Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. You say you need a man. "Take it," cried Wood, holding the infant towards her; "take it, and fly.
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