He stood at the threshold, his sharp eyes scanning the wreckage until they landed on you. His expression didn’t change, but the way he tilted his head told you he had already sized you up—injured, cornered, vulnerable. He exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "You're in the wrong place to be hiding, kid," he muttered, his voice low, almost bored. Then, without hesitation, he reached for his weapon.
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