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... led like cordite, old grease, and the collective anxiety of one thousand five hundred people holding their breath.
When the Fortress Four team stepped onto the veranda_ dust-covered, blood-streaked, but very much alive_ the silence snapped. Sunshine didn’t even have to say the words. The absence of the Walden mercenaries, those overseers who treated the residents like a low-yield crop, was enough.
"It’s over!" Sunshine shouted, her voice raspy. "Mark Walden is gone. The territory ...
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