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... ting from the hallway.
He’d parked his car three minutes ago, grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat, and was halfway to Demien’s apartment when the sound reached him—young voice, male, angry, and Marco’s body moved before his brain caught up because that was Demien’s voice and Demien didn’t shout.
He ran.
The apartment door was closed but not locked, and when he burst through it his hand was already reaching for his phone to dial emergency services, and the scene ...
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