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Chapter ONE HINDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN

Hardin'S POV

Dark room.

A very darkroom and the only source of light is are the faint rays of moonlight peeping thought the window that is slightly ajar.

The wind is blowing hard and I can feel it in my bones that something is not right. The curtains keep swaying left and right and it's a fascinating sight cuz it looks like a perfect dance choreography for the whistling wind. The atmosphere is cold and as time goes on, the breeze becomes stronger and the slightly open widow ...

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