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... prey to make a mistake. The tension in the air was suffocating, thick enough to cut with a blade.
Zes stood before me, gripping a long knife with the ease of a veteran. Her stance was impeccable, sharp and refined—the stance of a true killer. Not a single opening. Her muscles tensed, ready to explode into movement at any second. Her eyes locked onto me, filled with the cold, calculating focus of someone who had danced with death more times than she could count.
In contrast, I he ...
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