Whispers in the bayou... ░▒░ Down at the docks, the man with haunted eyes holstered his gun slow, hands shaking as he kept glancing over at the pale woman’s skin, searching for marks no one else could see. His lips curled tight, a whispered curse caught in the humid air—some message scorched deep beneath the surface, but she wore calm like armor, untouched yet trembling in the heat. ░▒
▒░ And that wasn’t the only shadow creeping through town. The fog pressed thick tonight, swallowing whole the murmurs from the Empire Tattoo parlor—where someone was left broken, inked with more than just pain. The Syndicate’s grip tightens, the air heavy with whispers of deals darker than bruises, and the bayou’s secrets slip closer to breaking. ░▒
░▒░ Deputy Broussard’s eyes flickered sharp when the news reached his ears, silent but for a slow nod toward the peeling doorframe. ░▒
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