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Chapter 118. Just in case
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... ate. The air hung thick with sweat, perfume, and cigarette smoke, curling like a lazy ghost through the dim, colored lights. At the back of the club, half-swallowed by shadows and synthetic fog, Wryn Hudel was laughing too loudly, a glass of amber poison in his hand, another bottle already halfway gone at his feet.
He leaned against a booth, surrounded by men with sharp jaws and dead eyes, a pack of wolves without a leader. One of them snorted a line off a phone screen. Another was halfw ...
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