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Chapter 29: Unexpected Detours

MORANA

Volk mounted the black motorcycle, its tires wide, the seat low, and the handlebars slightly curved downward.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Get on, it will give us an edge," he instructed, staring at me.

"An edge?" I furrowed my brows, confused. "...

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