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Chapter 35: Spare Credits

“What do you want to do about it, Tate? Rat us out? Sorry, you can’t.” The guffaws spilled out from the sky-alley.

Of course, he remembered that name. The fake guy: that was how he recalled him. He was pretending to be someone else he was not.

“Sons of bitches! You all owe me at least ten grand.”

They were talking over the phone. And yes, that was him. Blaise could recall images and voices in detailed precision.

Besides, their conversation was clear and loud. There was nobody else around this corner: not above him, not under him. He took a glance at the street on the ground. It was empty except for a long shape on the dirty asphalt near the trash bin. Probably a person, but he might as well be dead.

Blaise wanted to take a peek at the four behind him, but they might catch his movement. They were right around the corner.

“Chill. Why you have to be so goddamn serious about everything? I’ve already told you like two fucking minutes ago. We searched for him everywhere. He was so slick.”
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