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... ering against his ribs. He hesitated—not out of fear, but instinct. They weren’t making a mistake, right?
Behind him, Harlow shifted his weight, tension vibrating through his stance. His rifle was raised, the muzzle barely moving as his sharp eyes flicked between the guards who had tried—and failed—to stop them. The men’s faces were pale, rigid.
With a slow exhale, Winter shoved the door open, gun leading the way.
The room beyond was—
Empty.
Not cleared ou ...
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