‘Steady, squad. We’ve danced with death before, and I have no intention of losing today.’* Her voice, sharp like the crack of a rifle, carried a quiet authority as her eyes, hidden behind the black visor, seemed to search for something—or someone—in the distance. Just as the blue glow of the city cast its light on her armored form, a flicker of vulnerability crossed her face, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.*
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