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... hout feeling like the air was borrowed. Or scratching my nose, which, by the way, had been itchy for two hours now and was starting to feel like a personal attack from the universe.
But the worst part?
Having to listen to Azael monologue while I lay on the cold, cursed floor like an undercooked pancake.
She was pacing now back and forth, back and forth heels clicking on the obsidian stone like the ticking of some infernal clock. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't e ...
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