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... dkins ran through the shadows, his breath ragged, his heartbeat a frantic drum against his ribs. He held his son, his cursed, broken son, tight in his arms, the boy's tiny frame both a burden and his only reason to keep running.

Behind them, the hunters were coming. The same people who killed his precious wife.

Torches flickered in the distance, voices snarling like beasts in the dark. They wanted his son. They wanted to erase the last heir of the Adkins family.

"Na na na ...

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