
The French cuisine was exquisite along the border. Emma reached for her steak knife, cutting deeply
into the honey glazed chicken, as she was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight in a quiet corner of the café. The meal reminded her of a certain general who always wanted her, honey glazed
The plan worked.
show ‘em a little leg, have him caught in a web of a beautiful seduction, and before he could be her champion… she called forth the wolves,
he learned his deadly mistake as he quivered on the marble steps. She had towered over him
another Nazi leader decimated,
eliminated,
then fertilizing the moss covered soil that would one day carry Allied tanks.
Emma poured herself another glass of wine, smiling sardonically, looking at her reflection in the shine of her steak knife. Then she cut deeply again into the honey glazed chicken, while a wolf howled in the distance.
She would never be the victim of anyone.
It was 1941. Or was it?
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