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Chapter 95: Not Him
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... id so I rush there.
This is better be about Rodrigo.
I push open the heavy wood door and step inside. The bar is dimly lit, smoky, and reeks of leather and stale whiskey. A jazz tune hums softly from the speakers, clashing with the tension brewing in my chest.
Charles is already there, seated in a booth at the back with a glass of bourbon in hand. He doesn’t wave. He just lifts his eyes and gives me a look.
I slide into the seat across from him. "What’s going on?" ...
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