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Chapter 32 - 31 Searching for the Limits in the Rot
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Chapter 34 - 33 – The Crimson Mark
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... but like hot mud torn apart with hunger. The Profane had not moved away. He was still there, less than two meters away, devouring what remained of the man who once called her daughter. He chewed without hurry, as if each bone were a syllable and each muscle a stanza of some dark hymn. Valentina did not look at him. She knew. She felt it. Every crack, every gulp, every bloody bubbling that dripped from that dislocated jaw... was another chain on her invisible neck.
The bag closed around h ...
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