PREVIEW

... oncrete.

The air was different there — colder, sharper, the way underground places always smelled of damp steel and anticipation.

Above him, the muffled roar of the crowd rolled like distant thunder. Not constant — alive. Swelling and dropping with every cheer, every echo of the stadium announcer’s voice hyping the home end.

He could feel it under his boots.

The hum of thousands.

He swallowed.

Then, someone, a member of QPR staff in a navy track ja ...

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