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... r with a dull, final thud, three figures were shoved out into the blinding glare of the floodlights.
Aden’s grip didn’t just bend the metal railing this time, it obliterated the velvet padding and steel beneath, reducing it to a fine, grey dust. His chest tightened, a silent storm brewing within him.
They weren’t warriors. They weren’t even adults. They were the children from the slums—the three boys who had once broken into his sewer dwelling, scrappy and desperate, and somehow ...
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