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London scrambled to back away. Belatedly, she reached for her gun. Her grasp didn’t even come close. Deacon’s companions descended on her from behind, hooking her arms and twisting them up behind her back. She yelped at the pain, which only made them laugh.
Deacon held his blade out at a downward angle. The blood dripped from the tip. He snatched her jaw and jerked her face up to meet his cruel glare. “Look who is screwing with the elves.” He snapped his teeth just shy of the tip of her nose. “Playing wicked games. Wicked, wicked human.”
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