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... tside. Narrow tunnels always held the cold tighter. It pressed in like breath behind the collar.
Jake walked in first—shoulders squared, coat half-zipped, no clipboard, no expression. His boots tapped low against the cement floor, echoing faintly off the walls. No theatrics. Just that silent, unfussed authority that came after forty-plus matches. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
Behind him, the squad filtered in with lighter energy. Roney had his hood up but kept nudging Richter in the ribs abou ...
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