Shannon Tucker

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“Fine except for Lucian scowling at me like a—” Sloane grunted, her face contorting in pain. “Worth it,” she wheezed. “You’re such an idiot,” I told her. And then I was doubling over, my face hovering over my plate of tacos as an excruciating current of pain tore through me. “It’s in my kidneys.”
Things We Left Behind (Knockemout, #3)
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