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... met the eyes of the last person he wanted to see.
Silas, still wearing his formal suit, stared at him unflinching. A thin layer of sweat was evident on his forehead. His short black hair was no longer neatly styled. His breathing was off as if he had rushed here. His gloved hands twitched slightly, betraying something dark beneath the surface.
Clyde pulled away his gaze, turned his body, and began to walk past him.
"Where is he?" Silas asked out of the blue.
There ...
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