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... arpened. The air inside was stale with the lingering scent of fear—sweat, dust, and something coppery underneath. He crouched near the wall where the blood had streaked and ran a finger over the dried smear. Flaky, old... but not too old. Maybe a few hours at most.
The trail of droplets led him toward the narrow hallway and to the back of the apartment. He followed it quietly, eyes scanning every detail. A scuffed heel print on the wall. A broken phone screen on the floor. A knocked-over ...
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