Charis Wheeler

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“You’ve always been Izzy.” I followed her past the third row of trees that marked the front of the embassy and toward the door. She stiffened, then spun to face me right in front of Webb. “Izzy is an eighteen-year-old girl who has to have her hand held. I’m not that girl anymore, and if you have a problem with me being here, then go ahead and assign me to someone else,
In the Likely Event
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