13

His New Obsession

The warehouse smelled of rust, damp concrete and old blood. Rain struck the metal roof, drowning out the quieter sounds inside.

A man knelt beside a column, his wrists bound behind him. One eye had swollen almost shut. His shirt was torn, and a blood-dark cloth covered his left hand. Every time he tried to straighten, his body folded back over itself.

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Perona

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