Driving over there

Jack borrowed his neighbor’s car, unwilling to risk using his own. The tracker, now powerless, rested in his pocket like a cursed charm. He parked several blocks away from the office building and walked the rest of the distance, each step calculated and cautious. The night air was cold, sharpening his nerves. As the building came into view, Jack’s heart raced. If this was connected to the tracker, he was stepping directly into the lion’s den.
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