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Chapter 186

  • My heart picks up pace, seeing their backs, watching as they all struggle against the restraints binding them to the chairs. Walcott stands in front of them, blood splattering across his clothes. He looks even worse than Monroe, and the twisted fuck might be holding onto someone’s finger as he uses it to point at the guy in the middle.
  • Holy hell. My stomach flips, and I suck in my bottom lip, taking a slow breath.
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