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... or a while. The faint scent of alcohol permeated the hospital air.

"Duststorm really went all out today—a dozen killers, four cars, and even a light machine gun." Matthew wiped his face, shaking his head self-deprecatingly. "They must think very highly of me."

Fear still lingered in his heart as he recalled the earlier assassination attempt. If even one stray bullet in that shower of gunfire had hit something vital, Matthew would have died instantly.

He wasn't like Cassiu ...

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