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... ing mess of broken bones and drying blood. His mouth trembled as he tried to breathe. One eye was swollen shut, the other barely able to focus. His shattered body made no sound beyond ragged gasps.

And yet, he was alive.

That fact alone should’ve been a miracle.

It wasn’t.

It was a mistake.

Footsteps echoed.

Slow. Precise. Unrushed.

Then came the voice—sharp and polished like a knife dressed in velvet.

"Pathetic," Malakov said, step ...

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