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- St. George reached out and wrapped his fingers around the weapon’s muzzle. His palm blocked the barrel. “Again,” he said, “I think you just need to stop for a minute, calm down, and consider what’s going on here.”
- The man stared at St. George with cold eyes. “You do not want to be playing this game with me, mister.”
- “I’m not wor—”
- The roar of the shotgun echoed across the helipad, and then the open space swallowed up the sound. The blast knocked St. George’s hand away from the barrel. More people shrieked. Madelyn was one of them.
- St. George glared at the man. Then he held up his hand. Smoke curled off the cuff of his leather jacket. He opened his fingers and let the buckshot clatter and ping down onto the deck.
- Excerpt From Ex-Isle, pg 209-210
- Peter Clines
- https://books.apple.com/us/book/ex-isle/id989619017
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