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... ld like it was trying to break the glass. Wipers worked overtime, smearing water across the view, but it didn’t matter. I could’ve driven blind. My fury would’ve guided me.
That bastard cop, the same one I told my son to kill months ago, was still breathing.
Not just breathing. He led a team of officers straight into my factory like he had a goddamn invitation to do so. And Paolo, my son, my blood, the one who should’ve handled it? He’d done nothing.
Sat on his ass like a ...
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