Timur sank down onto the floor beside the dying man. Oddly, he identified with him. That very well could have been his fate—asking his enemy to help his leopard as they passed from the world. Like Timur, Anton had been born into that world of violence. He’d given his allegiance to the head of their lair, as they were taught almost from their first breath. He’d lived a life of pure hell, forcing his raging leopard to be among prey every minute while he lived his double life as an Interpol agent and enforcer for Lazar. He’d done his duty, just as Timur had. They’d just chosen different sides.
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