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CHAPTER EIGHTY — THE DOCKS BLEED RED

The rain didn’t stop. It thickened. What had started as a steady curtain of water was now a pounding wall, each drop cold enough to sting when it hit skin. By the time the SUVs rolled past the rusted gates of the port, every surface seemed slick and alive, reflecting the harsh glare of distant floodlights in fractured shards. The air smelled heavy salt from the sea, oil from the engines, and something faintly metallic that lingered in the back of the throat, like old blood that had been left ...

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