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Dennis leaned back in the passenger seat, holding his throat, trying to play tough, but I could still hear the rasp in his breathing.

The smudge of blood was like a warning smeared across his collarbone.

I gripped the wheel tighter than necessary. The gravel under the tires cracked and spat as the gates of the estate came into view, half-open as if expecting us.

Two guards stood there, faces alert under the glare of our headlights. They greeted us before I drove i ...

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