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“Sorry, Soo Ho.”

Since they brought around a lot of people, they couldn’t help but stand out. Ahn Soo Ho led her to the yard. Mrs. Park Ok Nam wasn’t into gardening or horticulture, but she liked potted plants. The two sat on the swing in the front yard.

“This is my first time on a swing since I was 10 years old.”

“And when on earth was that? When the tiger smoked cigarettes?”

“Tiger?”

Pamela was reasonably fluent in Korean, but she didn’t know the ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

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