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They coughed after leaving the dusty and destructed tunnel behind, carrying an unconscious Clark between them. "Everything will be fine," Spankin' whispered, out of breath, for the tenth time. They laid her body on a stone bench.

Hopkins realized they were in an ancient cemetery, with high and unkempt bushes, outside the castle walls. He could see the tour bus catching some tourists and feel the fresh air in his lungs, but Hopkins swallowed dry, wiping his tears.

Clark didn't seem to be... alive. The flowery dress was glued to her body, a messy mix of fabric, skin and blood. Don't you dare to die on me.

"She's alive," Spankin' said, a hint of smile spicing her words. "Her vital signs are weak, but she's still here."

Hopkins leaned on a grave, hands shaking. Beside one of the buses, Holt and his men were carrying black bags inside two Audi. He clenched his jaw.

"Can you take her out of here?"

"Yes. I have friends with us, supporting the mission," she confessed, admiring Clark's face. "And, Liam," Spankin' said and clenched her jaw, "make this son of a bitch suffer."

He nodded. It'll be my pleasure, kid.

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