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... he dark alley, ignored the muffled screams, and left the hybrid to his fate. But that wasn't who he was.

The kid was cornered, barely standing, his arms wrapped around his bleeding stomach. Three bounty hunters loomed over him, their weapons drawn. One was a brute with a hammer the size of a horse's skull. Another, a thin woman with curved daggers, eyes sharp as glass. The last one held a branding iron, its tip glowing red-hot—the mark of death for hybrids.

Dante's hands clenched ...

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