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74.1

My stomach tightened. Was this a concussion, or was he simply dazed? If I rushed to his aid before the fight restarted, I couldn’t guarantee the crowd’s reaction. It was one thing for Boris to separate them—nobody knew our strategy. Healing Griff’s swollen face would be cheating.

Beki whined, but the sound was mostly a reluctant agreement.

Boris stood between Malachi and Griff. “We’ll start again, shall we?” he said, sounding like a ringmaster. “When you fight as men, I want you upright. If the fight continues on the ground, you both shift into wolves.”

My brows pinched together. “What on earth is he saying?”

Beki shook her head.

I curled my hands into fists. For his sake, Malachi’s curse had better be there when he shifted.

“Hold this.” Griff shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Boris.

After that, he pulled off his shirt, making the crowd roar their approval. A few people wolf-whistled, making my lips tighten. This wasn’t a bloody strip show. Griff was just trying to avoid a situ
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