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... wet pavement. In the shadows beneath a crumbling bridge, Rael stood alone—his real body, not a clone.

He held no blade. Wore no armor.

And yet the air around him pulsed with silent power.

This place, once a neutral zone for rogue hunters, was now a killing ground. And tonight, he would stain it with the blood of the first betrayer.

Eron Talic.

The Silent Fang.

Once his loyal shadow on the 60th floor of the Tower—until the moment he rammed a dagger ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

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