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Previously

…The city outside continued its ceaseless hum, a lullaby of violence and desperation. The night was young, and the serpent was still coiled, but the coils were tightening, the pressure building. The game was escalating, and I knew, with a chilling certainty, that the next move would be a bloody one. The old cannery tomorrow night. Morales. Rossi. The pieces were aligning, and the stage was set for a reckoning. The question was, who would be left standing when the dust settled? And who would be the one to finally break the coil?