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... trands bound so tight I could barely feel my hands anymore. My ankles were tied too, though loosely enough to let me walk if I was forced to. Which, judging by the bruises blooming down my ribs and the copper taste in my mouth, wouldn’t be out of the question.

The rogues didn’t care about comfort.

I was inside what looked like an abandoned hunter’s cabin deep in the forest. The walls were made of rot-softened wood, patched with rusted metal sheets and holes large enough to see th ...

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