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... to see others get hurt because she was taken hostage. Resolute, she pressed her neck against the blade. Blood ran down the weapon, staining it crimson.

“Do it.”

Scruffy Hair hesitated, startled. He had never encountered a woman this fearless. Among all the hostages he’d taken, none had ever remained so composed. It was as if she was waiting for this moment.

“What are you doing? It’s for me to decide your worth.”

Scruffy Hair spat, flicking the blood off the knife ...

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