Ruthella

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The breath shudders out of him. He slams his fist into his laptop keyboard, the crack of plastic echoing. “These motherfuckers,” he mutters. “W-what?” My voice cracks. “They’ve locked me out of the security feeds.”
Ruthella
A sentence about him getting off of the call and then typing on his laptop would be a good transition here. Otherwise It's a strange jump in the scene.
Intense (Beneath Blaze #3)
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