Hannah Hussain

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It was the day before the race, the deadline when all drivers had to appear in camp. My eyes registered a neon-green Viper at the very edge of the camp. I stifled a sigh. Dinara was the last to show up and last night I’d worried she wouldn’t. I wasn’t even sure why I cared. Her presence meant trouble.
Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)
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