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The Monk

Dusak

He was with his uncle when the monk suddenly went very still.

Dusak looked up. They were in Spain, preparing to fly to the USA in a few days’ time. His uncle had told him, that he was to go to Argentina from there, to train under the guidance of a couple of men who had also been arch-rivals of Lucien Delano.

The One Eyed Dusak sat back, a coldness seeping through him. Involuntarily, his hand went up to the black patch he now wore to cover the blind eye.

He knew that he looked terrifying without it. He had beaten a man to death for having made a joke about him. A deep sense of unfairness welled up in him.

He was young, he was about to inherit the empire built by his uncle. Why had he lost his sight?

Curling his fists, he glared at the plate in front of him, unaware that his uncle was watching him, observing him with a sense of satisfaction.

Good, thought the crafty Paval. This was very good. He should build a deep well of hate for the man who had destroyed his brothers, two of th
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