MEANTIME.The acrid smell of smoke hung over everything, flavored with ash and copper.Buried under the fallen beams and broken glass of the compound they had believed was reduced to rubble, a body moved.Coughing. Gasping. Shrouded in blood but alive.Sebastian's eyelashes fluttered up, visible only under a layer of dirt and smoke. Every bone in his frame rebelled, every muscle twisting with agony—but he lived. Somehow. Lived.He tried to voice a word, but a harsh croaking emerged from his lips.Then—a figure. Lean, set in shadows, moving across the smoldering detritus like a specter."Bad luck," the man panted, kneeling beside Sebastian's broken form.Sebastian's gaze went icy. "Who…""I'm Lazarus," the man replied with a twisted grin. "And I rather think we have an enemy in common."Sebastian spat blood. "They think I'm dead."Lazarus drew closer to him, voice frosty and distant. "Let them. It's best.""Why. help me?" Sebastian snarled, agony tightening each word."Because, Sebasti
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