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... calypse draws near.
The darkness of the evening masked the tension in Asher’s jaw.
From the balcony of the Winters Corp’s gala, he lounged with a wine glass in hand, eyes half-lidded as golden light spilled from the glass ballroom behind him.
Murmurs drifted through the open doors: laughter, applause, music—and beyond that, the sound of elite socialites congratulating each other for breathing.
He swirled the dark wine lazily, legs crossed, ignoring the second or t ...
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