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... Tristan lay stretched across the bed, one leg hanging off the side, shirt half-rumpled on his chest. The house was still. No barking. No footsteps. No barking and footsteps. Biscuit was gone — in L.A. with Sophia and Barbara for the week. Sophia had practically insisted.

"She needs a proper routine," she'd said. "You'll forget to feed her twice a day with training. Don't argue."

So now it was just him. Empty house. Post-match adrenaline still buzzing through his limbs. He unlocke ...

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