" "You would purchase it at the price of your head," replied Jonathan, knitting his brows. " "Confusion!" thundered Wild. Lucy vomited onto the floor at the sight of her mother dying, the black spots expanding across her corpse. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote.
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