PREVIEW

... ded against the window, a peaceful rhythm that was repeating through the room.

The house smelled of damp wood and something metallic—something faint, but unmistakable.

Blood.

Adrian exhaled slowly, leaning against the old wooden table where his tools were neatly arranged.

A collection of knives, pliers, and wires was before him, glinting under the dull yellow light.

Each tool had a purpose, a function, a reason to exist.

Just like he did.

H ...

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