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Chapter 42: Time slipped
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Chapter 44: The bruise on the neck
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... gainst his ribs, each breath too shallow, too fast. The air smelled of polished wood and distant perfume, but all he could taste was fear. His palms were slick with sweat, his throat dry as dust. He slowed as he reached the seventh-floor hallway silent, carpeted in deep burgundy, lit only by the occasional wall sconce casting long, trembling shadows that seemed to reach for him.
Room 73.
The number glowed faintly in brushed steel, cold and indifferent. Cassian stopped in front of ...
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