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... voice tight as the van raced through the darkness.
I looked down at Azryth. He was unconscious now, barely breathing, the binding was going haywire, his pain and my panic feeding back on each other in a vicious cycle that made it hard to think.
The wound on his chest was spreading, black veins radiating outward from the impact site like cracks in glass.
"Bad," I said, my voice breaking. "Really bad."
Henrik was already pulling out medical supplies, but his express ...
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