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... ead of them stood Imirna, calm as still water, her eyes sharp and cold. Behind them loomed a black-cloaked figure whose appearance gave nothing away—Lyle.
The air itself seemed to tighten, like it, too, was holding its breath.
Bang! Bang!
In a flash, the assassins exploded into action. Two darted toward Imirna, the other two veering toward Lyle with practiced coordination.
"Tch, amateurs," one hissed mid-sprint.
Their footfalls were featherlight, movements ...
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