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Chapter 55: Through the Fog
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Chapter 57: The Price of Passage
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... Vincent’s raft—I knew it the same way I knew when someone was lying: it didn’t matter how, I just did. The bastard had made it here before us. Somehow.
"Get ready," I said, snapping out of my trance. "We’re going up."
The rafts bumped against the side of the ship with gentle, awkward thuds, like drunk kisses on expensive doors. The ladder creaked, each rung sagging under our weight as we climbed. I led the charge, because of course I did—because I’m the one who runs toward imposs ...
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