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THIRTY-EIGHT| OUT OF THE FRYING PAN

"Hunter," Ry snarls, confirming my suspicions as the woman grins.

"And you kids are Wolven." It's not a particularly kind look she's giving us. "Lucky me, three Alpha pups." She rubs her hands together, licking her withered lips.

My stomach churns as I catch my breath. Ry is focusing his full at...

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