The wind howling off the North Atlantic carried the bite of ancient brine and crushed gorse, tearing at the heavy wool of Maeve’s charcoal overcoat as she stood upon the precipice of the Connemara cliffs. Two hundred feet below, black basalt headlands shattered the ferocious ocean swells into towering plumes of white froth, thunder echoing upward through the rock like the heartbeat of an unbroken continent. Beside her, Liam Callahan…
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