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... ung to her form, dripping water onto the cold floor, and her eyes, usually sharp and unreadable, were filled with something softer, concern, maybe. Or grief. "He’s here," she said quietly, stepping inside, her voice catching on the wind. "The one they call Black Thorne. He entered the city tonight. No one saw how." Jude finally looked at her, his jaw clenched. Black Thorne wasn’t just another name on the High Table’s list, he was their executioner. Silent, merciless, and precise. Where he walked ...
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