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... lood and dirt. His men, or what was left of them, limped behind him. The place was dimly lit, the air thick with smoke and the scent of alcohol. Gamblers laughed and shouted at the tables, unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface.

At the far end of the room, behind a thick curtain, Brother Kun sat in his private lounge. A cigar rested between his fingers, and a glass of expensive whiskey sat untouched on the table. His eyes were cold as he watched Scarface stumble in.

Sca ...

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