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Chapter 13 Crash
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... torch to sweep the walls like I was on a ghost-hunting show.
Eventually, I found the storage room, which was basically a hoarder’s fever dream. Tools, nails, screws, boxes—an entire DIY graveyard dumped in a single corner.
The pliers were buried somewhere in the back like they owed someone money.
I stretched up, teetering on my toes, reaching for them like I was auditioning for Swan Lake: Apocalypse Edition.
Just as I grabbed them, my foot rolled over something s ...
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