“Why—why do any of this? Why do you care?” Nesta was quiet for a beat. Azriel didn’t say a word, a wall of silent menace at her back. Then Nesta said, “Because I’ve seen that star on your chest before.” “Yeah, you said that,” Bryce said. “Your tattoo—” “Not my tattoo.” “Then where?” Bryce breathed. If she could get answers— But Nesta strode ahead again into the darkness. “No place good.”
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