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... had frozen him twisted back into contempt—old, pure contempt. His eyes narrowed, the faint red glow behind them deepening until they burned like molten glass.
"Thirty percent," he muttered to himself. "Let’s see if you’re real, or just another trick."
The air snapped.
Xavier barely had time to register the movement before Luther disappeared. The next thing he knew, a fist was coming for his face. He tilted his head—barely—and the strike grazed his cheek, shredding through ...
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