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... t up, cap low over his eyes, grime layered on grime across hands that clutched the fabric around him like armor.

"I might be able to help you," he repeated, his smirk lazy, teeth yellow and cracked.

Grant glanced at me, one brow raised. I returned the look before stepping forward, the band on my wrist snapping softly, a reminder to keep myself in check.

"Help us how?" I asked, voice low, even.

The man shifted, scratching at his scruffy beard, eyes flicking between ...

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