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Chapter 70: Night Owls 04
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... ys are too narrow for drones and the rooftops make night fall earlier than it should, Meera was running, clutching her loaf of bread like it was treasure.
She pushed aside a rusted sheet of metal and slipped into a shack built from damp wood and hand-painted tin walls.
Inside, in a rickety old armchair, an old man was waiting for her.
His one eye widened as he saw her dirt-streaked face and tattered clothes.
— "By my mother’s ashes, Meera...!"
He staggered ...
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