Row continued, “And this is the maste—” A blood-chilling shriek left my mouth, drowning out his last word. “Shit.” Row backed out of the room, plastering his palm over my eyes to shield me from the image in front of us. Too late. It was already permanently seared into my brain. “Is it dead?” I slapped his hand away, peering behind his massive shoulder. Violent nausea slammed into the back of my throat. There was a coyote lying right in the middle of the empty room. It looked like roadkill, its eyes open, dead, and empty. Its guts spilled onto the floor. My eyes watered at the smell, and I
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