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God of Fury – Chapter 20

NIKOLAI

“Let’s start a fucking war!”

That’s what I shouted this morning, to which everyone rolled their eyes as if I was being unreasonable, when the fact is, we should’ve started this war two weeks ago, after those fucker Serpents thought it was a good idea to attack our home.

But I’m cool. I can roll with it.

Lie, fucking liar.

Except for a little arson and chucking one of their cars down a cliff, I didn’t get much action. Fine. So Jer did give me a few targets to eliminate and I go to the fight club like my life depends on it.

But none of that is enough for the war machine brewing inside me.

It might also have to do with other particular circumstances that I can’t seem to fucking understand anymore.

Instead of giving us what we all need—the war—Jer told me to calm down, and Kill said it would be better if he takes me on a walk, to which I replied that I’m not his fucking dog.

Still, we walk down the island’s cobbled streets, throughout the old town, attracting more attention than necessary. Or more like, I do, even though I put a shirt on, for fuck’s sake.

“You need to stop glaring at anyone who looks at you,” Kill says with his usual calm, looking every bit the dignified gentleman that he most definitely is not.

“Maybe they need to stop looking at me.” I snarl at a lady who keeps walking and glancing behind her.

She runs inside one of the stores as if her ass is on fire.

“Jeez, Niko. Way to scare the locals.”

“This is dumb. Let’s go to the fight club, where I can beat you the fuck up.”

“Pass. I’m meeting my Glyn and I can’t suffer from a black eye.”

I stare at him with mock disbelief. “Are you telling me your girl is more important than me? Your cousin with whom you grew up?”

“Why is that a question? Of course she is.”

“Kill, you motherfucking—”

“Oh, please. Quit the dramatics. You already have someone who’s more important than us.”

I pause and narrow my eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Your failed attempts at sneaking around at night and at the crack of dawn. Care to share where you go?”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh? Didn’t know you had the ability to be secretive, dear cousin. My, my. I’m officially intrigued.”

“Un-intrigue yourself.”

“That’s not a word. Hmm. It can’t be your fuck buddies since you didn’t shy away from flaunting them in our faces and disturbing us with your excessive porn shows and extravagant orgies. The fact that they disappeared altogether and you told the guards to kick out your toys whenever they come to the mansion means one thing.”

“Which is?”

“You really do have that ED.”

“Don’t make me flash you in public, because I’ll totally fucking do it.”

“There are a bunch of prudes here, Niko. You’ll end up in jail.”

“Don’t fucking care.”

“If it’s not ED, the only other option is…you went exclusive.”

Fucking Killian and his psycho mind should be banned from existing around me. I’m struggling as it is and barely stopping myself from shouting that “I’m off to fuck my lotus flower” every night and “I’m gonna give my lotus flower a good morning kiss” every day.

It should be blasphemous that I’m expected to keep any sort of secret. I’m a muscles guy who prefers speaking with his fists. Everything else needs to fuck right the fuck off.

I don’t like complicated. I don’t do complicated.

Anyone who entrusts me with their secrets is a fool. Bran is a fucking fool. But he believes in my discretion, so I can’t just advertise the whole unorthodox relationship.

Though he’d lose his marbles if I were to call it a relationship.

It’s a situationship.

A deal at best and a whoring contract at worse.

Sometimes, it feels like a relationship. Especially after the fire. He’s started coming to the penthouse more often than not, and the times he can’t, he sends me texts like:

My cousin and brothers are dragging me to this party. If I leave, it’ll be suspicious. I’m sorry. Will I see you tomorrow morning?

The girls invited me to their flat and I can’t make up an excuse this time. Glyn is asking if I’m okay because she’s growing worried, and I don’t want to put that burden on her. I’m really sorry. Can I still see you in the morning?

So yeah, the first time he didn’t come to the penthouse, I ghosted him the next morning as well, but I couldn’t keep doing that when he was apologizing and basically begging me to meet him for our runs.

He’s so fucking adorable. Though I wouldn’t tell him that out loud or it’d freak him out. He gets antsy whenever I treat him gently outside of sex.

It’s like he’s scared of the prospect of us growing closer or something. And yet he’s the one who does my grocery shopping and cooks for me.

I don’t remember what all the fancy dishes are called, and I’m pretty sure I don’t eat them the right way, considering the way he shakes his head in disapproval, but they taste awesome. Which is the whole point behind food, if you ask me.

He’s the one who stays a bit longer every night, as if he’s finding it harder to leave. He comes up with excuses about cleaning up and cooking or finishing the late-night murder mystery, but I know it’s because he loves me and wants to be with me more.

Okay, he doesn’t exactly love me. But I’m totally growing on him.

I catch him smiling at my antics, and he does that more now. Smiling, I mean.

He also tolerates my flirting more and replies to my texts in a timely manner. I think he even likes filthy texts now. He’s become a fan of the dick pics as well, though he often tells me to stop sending them.

Sometimes, I find him looking at me with this cryptic expression when I’m watching his boring movies.

Other times, however, he looks at me as if I’m an alien, which is usually my cue that he’ll leave. Other times, he locks himself in the bathroom for more than half an hour and comes out distraught, his real expression hidden behind the disturbing control that he wields so well.

It doesn’t help that whenever I ask him if everything is okay, he lies through his teeth with that fake smile and says the word that I hate the most now. Fine.

He’s anything but fine, but I don’t know how to get him to talk. That is, if I’m supposed to do that when we’re not in a relationship.

Bran is a vault. No matter how much I bang on the surface, it never cracks. He always, without a doubt, slips behind the steel walls and closes himself off.

A tap on my shoulder brings me back to the present and I find my cousin staring at me. “Are you thinking about them? A man? A woman? Both?”

“Fuck off, Kill.”

“Honestly, I can’t imagine you in a relationship.”

“Why the fuck not?” I snap.

He pauses, raising an eyebrow. “You’re too volatile. Besides, you said you don’t want a partner. Ever. Since you’re a free soul and refuse to be tied down.”

Right. I did say that.

Fuck. I completely forgot that I actually used to think that way not too long ago. What is it about Bran that makes me want to fucking tie him to me?

It’s the conquest, right?

Just because I have his body, I don’t have his soul, and I’m on the edge because I want his everything.

Once he hands that over, I’ll discard him.

Right?

“So?” Kill shoves my shoulder with his. “Who changed your precious set of anti-monogamy rules? You can tell me. Must be killing you to keep it all to yourself.”

“You really want to know?”

He nods.

I beckon him with one finger. “Come here. It’s a secret.”

He inches close and I smack him on the nape. “Mind your fucking business and stop being nosy.”

My cousin massages the assaulted spot. “You’ll regret that.”

“Take it as payback for all the times you throw shit at me.” I break out in evil laughter and continue strolling down the street.

Kill grabs me by the arm and pushes me in the opposite direction. “Let’s grab a coffee first.”

“And croissants.” I stroke my stomach. “You think they have macarons?”

“Don’t think so.” He watches me. “Since when do you like macarons?”

“I always have.”

“No, you haven’t. Your sweet tooth usually ends at donuts.”

I hum but say nothing. I might have started indulging in them since Bran bought some once. I finished the whole box in one night and had a mini sugar coma.

He’s started hiding them from me since then and only leaves two pieces out like a stingy asshole.

“Kill!”

My grouchy cousin’s face breaks into a rare genuine smile at the sound of his girlfriend’s voice.

She’s waving us over to her table with… My, my.

My lips curl into an automatic grin when my eyes meet those stunning blues. For a fraction of a second, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights, his fingers loosening from around his cup.

It’s a bit similar to his expression last night when I pressed him against the wall as soon as he was out of the elevator and fucked him there until he couldn’t stand up straight.

Chill, Kolya. Jesus, man. We’re in public.

Does he understand that logic? No, because he’s twitching against my pants in pure dick fashion.

I know Bran is allergic to being labeled beautiful, but he so is. He’s also so elegant and well-groomed. The collar of his shirt is perfectly folded, his cuffs are symmetrically rolled, and every strand of his hair falls into the right place.

He’s always dressed in refined fashion and he carries himself with silent charisma. He might bottom and enjoy it, but he’s the control freak outside the bedroom. Hot-headed, too, to the point of madness. Bet no one looks at his fancy manners and can guess he loves it rough.

While Glyn and Killian are busy sucking each other’s faces off, I slide a chair over and sit beside him. I purposefully sit with my thighs so wide apart; my jeans touch his pants.

He continues watching me as if I’m a world wonder, his lips slightly parted.

The need to devour those lips beats inside me like an urge, but I force it down and whisper, “You’re drooling. Am I that hot?”

He swallows and quickly diverts his gaze, choosing to focus on the absurd PDA across from us.

Typical Bran. To be honest, I don’t know why I keep hoping he’ll one day come out in epic fashion and kiss me in front of the world like he loves to do in private.

That’s just impossible.

I suspect he’d rather keep this going for years instead of finally being honest with himself. Not that I care. Once I graduate, I’ll be back to my life in New York and he’ll return to being the prim-and-proper London boy.

“What a coincidence,” Glyn says after she finally breaks apart from Kill.

He taps her nose. “You really think it’s a coincidence? Looks like I have a lot more to teach you, baby.”

Kill. You evil genius.

So he knew she was in this coffee shop with Bran all along, which is why he insisted we grab coffee here.

It’s nice to know I have a successful stalker cousin. Some might say it runs in the family since I’m pretty sure I caught Gareth stalking a Mercedes the other day and he used one of the bodyguards’ cars for the mission.

What’s not nice, however, is the fact that he also uses baby. Couldn’t pick another nickname?

I steal a glance at Bran, and he’s busy staring at his coffee as if searching for an answer to the fucking universe. Black, no sugar like his soul.

He’s interlinking his fingers, letting them rest on his lap and I rest my hand on my thigh, close to his, and inch closer, getting high on the warmth emanating off him.

Fuck me. He’s intoxicating.

I simply can’t exist in his vicinity and stop myself from touching him.

It’s torture.

“How are you, Niko?” Glyn asks me with an easy grin.

Sometimes, it’s hard to think of her as Bran’s sister. Though they do look like siblings, she’s more carefree than he’ll ever be. She acts spontaneously while he counts his every step. Every word. Every action. Like a psycho.

Except when my body talks to his, of course. That’s when I get the uncut version of my lotus flower.

“Nikolai,” Killian says. “His name is Nikolai.”

“But I love Niko,” I say with a smile.

To give Bran credit, he pretends that I didn’t say a word as he sips from his coffee. However, I can see his hand twitching on his thigh.

“Right?” Glyn says. “It’s much easier to call him Niko instead of Nikolai. Don’t be jealous, Kill.”

“Yeah, don’t be jealous, cousin. Glyn and I are friends, right?”

“Uh-huh.” She grins and I wink at her.

I swear I catch Bran glaring at me from my peripheral vision, but when I look at him, he’s busy watching his coffee.

“Watch it, Niko,” Kill threatens in mock calm. “You’re digging your own grave.”

“Let me search for the fucks I have to give.” I pretend to check my pockets and then produce two middle fingers. “Oh, here you go.”

Glyn bursts out laughing, Killian is nowhere near amused, and Bran is still lost in his phone.

Christ. His mental door-slam game is strong.

“So what were you doing here before we interrupted you?” I ask Glyn.

“Nothing much. Bran and I love to catch up.”

“You must be close,” I say and feel Bran stiffen beside me.

“We are,” she says with glee. “We’re a team against Lan.”

“We’re not against Lan.” He speaks for the first time, voice calm and clear like an unmovable mountain. “He’s our brother.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t act like one.”

“This is not the time or place for this discussion,” he says point-blank, and although he sounds composed, there’s a firm edge beneath it.

Hearing him speak in that tone is how I figured out his kind image is just that—an image. He’s actually a bit controlling. Okay, a lot. Neurotically so.

He acts like he’s okay with everything, but deep down, he tries to manipulate the situation so it works the exact way he wants it to. He’s picky, standoffish, and meticulous. Difficult and grumpy, too. The quiet ones are the fucking scariest.

“Whatever.” Glyn pouts. “You always try to give excuses for him anyway.”

“He’s my twin brother.”

“Yeah, okay.” She rolls her eyes and slurps aggressively from her cup as Kill strokes her shoulder.

I see an opportunity and I sure as fuck take it. Since the lovebirds are busy, I plant my hand on Bran’s and he goes still, his hand slightly trembling beneath mine.

He’s so fucking warm that I can’t help threading my fingers through his, digging the pads in his thigh.

Bran goes still, and here’s the thing; he doesn’t try to push me away. So I go further, stroking his skin with my thumb, trying and failing not to get turned on by a mere stolen touch in public.

I really love how his hand is big but still slightly smaller than mine. It’s perfect size. He is perfect in every physical aspect. Anyone who says otherwise is clearly a blind fucking idiot.

Glyn looks up and Bran subtly pulls his hand free and shoves mine away then grabs his phone, building that wall around himself.

Not so fast.

I pull out my phone and text him.

ME

You’re not paying me any attention, baby. I’m jealous of Kill and Glyn.

He reads it immediately and I can see him glaring at his phone as if it’s my face.

BRAN

Go away.

ME

Aww, but I don’t want to.

Don’t be a baby, Nikolai.

I thought you were the baby, baby.

He covers his mouth with a palm, but it’s too late, I can see him smiling. It takes everything in me not to lean over and feast on that smile and pull on his lip with my teeth just the way he loves it.

ME

You smell so good, I want to lick you up.

BRAN

Nikolai!

You look so hot, I want to eat you up. I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re a blithering mess, baby.

Shut up.

Love how you’re prim and proper in public but turn into a filthy-mouthed sex god in private. How you’re all quiet now, but you become loud when your ass swallows my cock. Mmm. Getting hard thinking about your face when you choke on my cock.

STOP.

Oh, one last thing. I forgot to do this earlier today.

I send him a dick pic I took this morning.

Bran squirms in his seat and immediately exits the chat. I suppress a smile as I keep staring at my screen.

“Is it Simon?”

Kill’s words pause my attempts to send another dick pic just to mess with my Bran.

I slide my gaze from my phone to my cousin, frowning. “Simon?”

“Is he the one you’re exclusive with?” Kill asks.

Bran pauses with his cup of coffee near his lips before he slowly sets it down.

“You’re in an exclusive relationship?” Glyn asks with apparent glee.

“He is and wouldn’t tell me who with.” Kill pauses. “I’m going through your toys, and Simon is the only one clingy enough to want that.”

“Who’s Simon?” Glyn asks.

I steal a look at Bran and his lips are set in a line. He knows exactly who Simon is, even though it’s been several weeks. After all, he agreed to be exclusive because of his jealousy.

“He’s the one who walks and talks like a diva and calls Nikolai Daddy,” Killian answers her.

“Oh, Simon.” Glyn smiles. “He asked me to call him Sim.”

“More like a simp.” Kill twists his lips. “He’s so cringe. Please tell me he’s not the one you’re with.”

“Maybe he is,” I say as I hit Send on the second nude.

This time, it’s a full-body mirror selfie where I’m fisting my cock and biting my lower lip.

Then just to fuck with him, I type:

ME

Thinking of your ass makes me drip, baby.

Bran stands up all of a sudden, hand clenched around his phone, but he sounds composed when he says, “I’m going to pop into the toilet.”

I suppress a smile as I watch the dots appear and disappear.

“Stop smiling like a creep,” Kill says. “It’s disgusting.”

“Don’t be jealous of my sexy smile, Satan’s heir.” I slide my phone into my pocket. “I need something sweet. Be right back.”

I head to the cashier, pretending to be checking out their sweets. No Italian pistachio croissant, no baklava, and no macarons. Not interested.

After I catch a glimpse of Kill and Glyn eating each other’s faces, I slip to the restroom. I find Bran standing in front of a sink, his face twisted and his fingers holding his phone in a death grip.

I slip behind him and whisper in his ear, “Careful, if you glare at it hard enough, it might break.”

He flinches and whirls around so fast, he nearly falls. I wrap an arm around his waist. “Easy, baby.”

His wild eyes search our surroundings with tendrils of panic. “What are you doing, Nikolai?”

“I figured you could use a hand.” I glide my palm to his erection and fist it through his pants. “Mmm. Did you get hard looking at my nudes, baby?”

“Nikolai…” He struggles for control, his voice hoarse. “This is a public place… Stop…”

“But the possibility of getting caught is making your cock thicker.” I lean over and slide my tongue over the shell of his ear. “Or is that because of me?”

“You need to get over yourself…” His words end with a moan when I bite the lobe of his ear, then his jaw, and his bottom lip.

“You were saying?”

“Cut it out…”

“What was that?” I stroke his erection, making it as hard as stone. “Your cock is so fucking hard for me.”

“F-fuuck…bloody hell.”

“Mmm. Love it when you curse, baby.”

“Nikolai—”

Whatever he has to say is cut off when the sound of footsteps comes from outside.

Bran freezes, the lust replaced by a sense of panic so steep, it baffles me. Even his erection starts to deflate.

Why the fuck does he act as if it’s the end of the world if someone catches him kissing me?

I grab his wrist and drag him to the last stall, then shove him inside, slam the door shut, and back him up against the wall.

A few male voices reach us from outside, discussing the Premier League and whatnot.

“Leave,” Bran whispers.

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Niko—” I crash my lips to his and he groans into my mouth, the sound small but enough to make me hot and bothered.

The kiss is hard and fast, meant to make him stop talking. I don’t want to hear his grating words right now.

“I’m going to need you to be real quiet for me, baby.” I unzip his pants and pull out his hard cock. “Seems you really get off on this, don’t you?”

“Nikolai, don’t…please…” He shakes his head frantically, but I jerk him from the base to the tip, relishing how he turns rock-fucking-hard.

And just because I can’t help it, I push on the foreskin and tease the hole.

“Mmm. You’re dripping for me. How cute.”

“Fuck you…”

“Love it when you talk dirty.” I lower myself to my knees with a bit of struggle. We’re big guys, especially me, and this place is small.

Once I’m in an okay position, I slide him into my mouth.

Bran growls and I press a hand to his lips.

“Shh,” I whisper around his dick. “I love it when you’re loud, but this isn’t the place for those sexy growls. Be quiet for me as I choke on your cock, baby.”

He throws his head against the wall, eyes rolling as I take him to the back of my throat, then out again and in again. I tease the tip, thrusting my tongue against it a few times.

“Mmmfff…” He curses against my palm as he buries his hands in my hair, shoving me against his groin.

I suck him in a frenzy, wanting to get him off. I choke on his cock and squeeze his balls until he’s writhing against the wall and his precum spills on my tongue.

God-fucking-damn-it.

He’s a sight to behold when chasing his pleasure. Flushed skin, hooded eyes, and demanding fingers.

He has an obsession with my hair, and just like every time, he yanks away the tie to sink his fingers against my skull, fisting my hair, then stroking it, then fisting it again.

I can feel his muscles tightening as he thrusts in my throat faster. His teeth sink into my fingers as his cum explodes in my mouth and down my throat.

He comes for a long time and I keep sucking him dry until I swallow every last drop.

He sags against the wall, fingers clenching in my hair. Once I’m done, I pull him out and lick my lips as he watches me with feral eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that or I’ll fuck you, baby.”

As I stand up, I remove my hand from his mouth, now sporting a red half-moon over the tattoos from his teeth.

“What the hell do you think—”

My lips seal to his. “Unless it’s a thank-you, I don’t want to hear it.”

He watches me for a beat. “Can you stop kissing me randomly?”

I lick his lower lip. “Nope.”

He tucks himself in, fighting against the redness creeping up his skin.

Once he’s back within his boring element, he glares at me. “What’s with Killian finding out about you being in an exclusive relationship?”

“He just loves playing detective.” I lick his throat. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t know it’s you.”

Bran’s hands land on my chest and he tries to push me away, but he tilts his head to the side, giving me access to that pounding pulse point. “Why does he think it’s Simon?”

“You heard him. Simon is the one who makes more sense.”

“Why? Because he calls you Daddy?”

I chuckle against his neck, trying to be quiet even though there are no voices outside. “Jealous, baby?”

He fists my hair and tugs me back. “Don’t mess with me, Nikolai.”

“Don’t mess with me.” I wrap my fingers around his throat and squeeze. “You have no right to act butthurt when you’re the one against a public relationship. If you don’t like people thinking I’m with Simon, boo-fucking-hoo. It’s your fault.”

A smudge of pain passes through his eyes and I want to kick myself in the ass when he releases my hair.

“Baby…”

“No, you’re right. I’m the one who wanted it this way and I need to deal with the consequences.”

“But why does it have to be like this? We can—”

“No!” he cuts me off so harshly, I actually step back.

“You didn’t even hear what I have to say.”

“The answer is no, Nikolai,” he says with a note of panic, and I want to reach inside him and drag out whatever demon is making him feel this way, then beat it to death.

What the fuck happened to him? Why does he go into this mode sometimes, as if he’s being chased by a monster?

“Just drop it, okay?” He’s breathing harshly. “Go back first.”

“Hey…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You look anything but fine.”

“Why is that any of your business?” he snaps. “Why do you have to care? Just leave me alone.”

“You know, you’re pushing me too far and I might let you fucking drop, Brandon.”

His lips part and I think he’ll at least apologize like he usually does, but he whispers, “Please go.”

“Fuck you,” I mutter, then whip the door open and leave.

My movements are forceful as I wash my hands and stride back to the coffee shop. I pause by the table when I notice the atmosphere is not as sickeningly sweet as when I left.

The reason is that Bran’s clone is in my chair.

I place a hand in my pocket and stand beside him. “You’re in my spot.”

Landon’s head whips in my direction, sporting his slimy smirk. Although he shares Bran’s physical traits, Landon is buffer and much more loathsome. If it weren’t for the identical features, no one would think they’re siblings. Where Bran is calm and a fucking asshole behind closed doors, Landon is an asshole openly. Antagonistic and completely unhinged.

I still haven’t forgiven him for kidnapping Kill, even if my cousin let it go to keep his relationship with Glyn intact.

“Don’t see your name on it, big man,” he says with that same smirk, and the only reason I don’t punch him in the face is because it’s a mirror of Bran’s.

Can’t stand the fucking guy.

“Lan?” Bran shows up, looking not one bit flustered. As if he didn’t get on my last fucking nerve a minute ago.

He carefully slides into his seat, keeping his attention on his pretentious brother. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you and Glyn were catching up, so I wanted to join. I didn’t think there would be unwanted company, though.”

“Watch your mouth,” Kill grits and Glyn presses on his hand as if stopping him from punching her brother, who definitely deserves to be sent to the moon with a hole in his goddamn face.

“Bran, little bro.” Landon wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Why were you sitting beside Nikolai? Stupidity can be contagious, you know.”

This fucking—

Before I can kick him, Bran pushes him away. “That’s rude. Apologize, Lan.”

“Me? Apologizing?” He bursts out laughing. “Good one, Bran. You’re effortlessly funny.”

“I apologize on my brother’s behalf,” he says, barely looking at me.

Christ. This fucking asshole, I swear. I glare at him and he ducks his head, cutting off eye contact like the coward he is.

“What’s going on here?” Lan snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Hey, you. Eyes off my brother before I fucking blind you.”

“Lan!” Glyn chastises.

Bran lifts his head and the fear I see in his gaze makes me sick to my stomach.

He’s so terrified about the notion that anyone could find out about us that he looks like he’s on the verge of throwing up.

“I’m out of here,” I announce and leave without a look behind.

Fuck the lot of them. Starting with Brandon fucking King.

I walk back to the mansion and then take my Harley on a ride along the seashore. But neither the air nor the vibrations of the bike lighten my mood.

After half an hour, I park by the beach and pull out my phone.

I find a text from the bane of my fucking existence.

BRAN

Thank you and I’m sorry.

Motherfucker.

ME

What for?

BRAN

I’m sorry for how I spoke. Thank you for leaving and not clashing with Lan.

Listen, I think he’s suspicious about something.

So?

It’s best I keep my distance from the penthouse for now.

Typical Brandon. Running away at the first sign of danger seems to be your modus operandi.

You don’t know Lan. He’s like a dog. If he comes sniffing around, he’ll find out everything.

And that’s such a fucking tragedy?

Nikolai, please. Don’t do this.

You know what? I am doing this. I don’t have time for spineless, indecisive assholes. I’m neither your plaything nor your booty call.

What does that mean?

Go find yourself another toy. We’re done.

Oh, wait. We were never anything in the first place. Delete my number.


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