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... t the air, grating like nails on stone.
Isabella rolled her eyes before she even turned. Here we go. That voice. That pitch. That attitude.
It had prejudice written all over it.
Every single time someone saw Cyrus in his true form, there was always one dramatic idiot ready to scream demon or curse or abomination. And from the way that voice sounded—sharp, judgmental, absolutely annoying—this girl was the idiot of the day.
Isabella turned, squinting toward the nois ...
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