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... of his throat like broken glass. The sound was so sharp, so utterly miserable, that even Kian’s ever-stoic expression cracked. His eyes widened the tiniest fraction, a silent acknowledgment of just how bad whatever had entered Zyran’s mouth must have been.

And Isabella? She lost it.

The moment the first wheeze escaped Zyran’s lips, she burst into laughter. Not just any laugh, either—this was the kind that bent your stomach, the kind that stole your breath, the kind that sent tear ...

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