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his mind had parted for this one moment, this one instruction, this one final act of will.
“Grigori, what—”
“Break the wall,” he repeated. Then his grip loosened. His eyes drifted closed.
He didn’t wake up again.
He died at 4:17 in the morning, with the narrow window showing the first gray suggestion of dawn and my hand still holding his. I sat there for continue reading …
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