Crow I opened my safe and grabbed the loaded pistol. I checked the bullets before I shoved it into the back of my jeans. It’d been a long time since I held a gun—at least ten years. It was amazing how I immediately reverted back into my old ways, grabbing my jacket by the door and putting it on so it was less obvious that I was armed. My heart slowed way down, like my body knew I needed to focus.

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