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Chapter 149; There’s one method
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... otten. He reached for the glass vial of oil on the shelf, pouring a measure into his palm.
Slowly, and deliberately, he smoothed it across his chest, his arms, the ridges of muscle glistening under his touch, as though layering strength where the mirror had revealed weakness.
His hand lingered at his throat, tracing the beat of his pulse, before he moved on, reaching for the suit laid out in solemn precision. Black fabric, tailored to precision, sharp as a blade.
He slid ...
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