You hurt him. Not overwhelmed unless I wanted to be overwhelmed. I'd touched his rage before, his beast, and this wasn't it, not exactly. Jean-Claude wasn't awake yet, I'd have felt it, but the thought was more his than mine.
He'd started to gain that past-forty, nearing-fifty extra around the middle, but Lana had put him on a diet and an exercise program. Police are trained to save lives, not take them. She made Primo, I said, and it was only then that I realized I wasn't talking out loud. Roman army, the murder that got him condemned, the arena where he could murder to his heart's content, where he could slake that rage, or feed it.
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