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Chapter 67: Time for Torture
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Chapter 69: Grace and Grime
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... y waiting—my merry little cabal of degenerates and misfits—as Victor slumped himself into his chair at the far end of the table.
His skin was still slick with sweat, his breath a wet, uneven thing, and every once in a while he’d glance at me like he couldn’t decide whether to beg or bite.
I perched on the edge of the table, legs crossed, chin resting in my hand, and fixed him with the kind of stare that makes men confess crimes they haven’t yet committed. Like a magistrate with a ...
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