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... nd old blood. Marcus coughed once, then bit it back, trying not to wheeze too loudly. Every sound echoed in these damn walls.
And Richard’s boots were dragging. Worse, so were Marcus’s.
"Come on, man, you have to move," Richard hissed, arm locked around Marcus’s waist. "You’re not dead yet."
"Feels like a technicality," Marcus rasped, his voice hoarse, pain spiking through his thigh as his boot scraped uselessly against the floor. "You’re lucky I like you."
Richar ...
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