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... r and I jumped.
I know what you are thinking: jumping from the third floor? No way I survived that.
You would be right, of course, if the neighbor’s balcony didn’t have laundry hanging out to air on a thick rope.
Pure luck.
Until I looked down. Ten black vans full of people armed up to the teeth are entering the building.
Damian was completely out—head slumped against my shoulder, curls sticking to the sweat on my neck. His face looked unnervingly peaceful ...
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