Previous chapter: Chapter 87
Next chapter: Chapter 89
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... orearms, clasped in front of him over his knees. Everything in him worked every day to keep these things buried, to push them from conscious thought. But with his teeth gritted, he forced himself to dredge them up instead.

The pile of bodies that had been stacked near the prison during the War of the Wolves-faces that he knew, swollen and grotesquely discolored. And the stench...

Zev grunted.

Flash after flash of grieving families-mothers who collapsed at the news that th ...

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