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Chapter 24 They Won't Ask Questions

  • The shooting range was eerily quiet. No shouts. No chaos. Just the distant clang of metal targets and the rhythmic click of a gun being reloaded.
  • I stood with my feet shoulder-width apart, a Glock 19 gripped tightly in my hands. Alessio stood behind me, watching. Observing.
  • Dante was off to the side, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
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