PREVIEW
... Not the pain. Not the dark. Not the sound of boots scraping dirt or the way the tent walls shifted with moving bodies.
The knife went in wrong. Whoever threw it was already a dead man.
He didn’t know how he knew that. He didn’t know much of anything in those first few seconds. There was a body, and the body was moving before his mind caught up. Rolling left. Hand finding a short blade beneath the sleeping mat. The motion was muscle memory that did not belong to him.
His n ...
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