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... Jason back to his cell. Instead, they left him shackled in the interrogation room, the cold metal cuffs biting into his wrists. He frowned, his mind racing. ’Who the fuck wants to talk this late?’ The prison was on edge, the air thick with the anticipation of something big. He didn’t have to wait long for answers.
The door swung open, and in walked James Wesley, sharp as a blade in a tailored suit, polished shoes gleaming under the fluorescent lights, black-framed glasses perched on his ...
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