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Chapter 25: Still hate it here
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... n her personal shooting range, her sports bra clinging to her sweat-drenched skin.
The air was thick with the subtle scent of gunpowder of spent bullets. She lowered her gun, her breath steady, her eyes sharp as she called forth the target. It was riddled with holes, each one hitting the mark she intended or at least close enough. At the center, a single red mark glared back at her—her final shot, perfectly placed. She smiled with satisfaction crossing her face before it faded into a col ...
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