The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. Yet she held her tongue. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. But, in spite of his outcries and resistance, he was dragged along by Jonathan and his janizaries.
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