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“How sick?” My voice comes out hoarse. Looking into identical eyes to my own, I try again when he doesn’t answer. “How fucking sick, Da?” My father’s mouth turns into a grim line. “Really fucking sick, kid. I’ll fight it. I won’t ever stop fighting for forever with you, little king, but just in case something was—”
Mila: The Godfather (Unholy Trinity #7)
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