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The car door slammed shut, sealing Connor outside. Inside, Markus gripped the wheel, knuckles white, eyes fixed on the asphalt. The silence was heavy, broken only by the engine's hum. “So,” Markus’s voice cut through, sharp and firm. “You’re going to explain what the hell that was?” Four near-death incidents in two days. The bandages on Connor’s arm were a stark, bloody testament. Markus wouldn’t take excuses this time.