PREVIEW
... t sounds exhausting."
Fizz grinned. "For you, yes."
They walked back toward East House, toward their room, toward Ray Flame’s bed that always looked like it had been slept in by a storm. The corridor smelled faintly of chalk and soap.
John’s hand brushed the permit in his pocket once, a small touch to reassure himself it was real.
He did not feel arrogant. He felt responsible.
And for the first time since the White House had thrown him away, he felt like h ...
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