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The bullet misses.

Not by much, but life, like baseball, is a game of inches.

Lado steps in, knocks the pistol from the boy’s hand, grabs him by the head, and twists.

Esteban’s neck snaps.

Like kindling.

Lado turns on the camera and aims it at the girl. Then he turns on the computer and types in the address.

Then he picks up the chain saw.


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