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... he coppery scent of death. Yet none of it seemed to bother him. Not even the pain. Not even the chaos.

He walked forward, his blood-streaked face calm, expressionless, as his eyes locked on the group of Crimson Hand men who had shot Lilith. His steps were slow, deliberate. Purposeful.

One of them turned, eyes widening. "Shit," the man whispered.

Liam raised his rifle, took aim—

Click.

The empty chamber echoed louder than any explosion. No more bullets.

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