Brithany Martinez

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“Why hasn’t she picked up her phone for the past hour?” he asked. She held the phone my direction and raised one eyebrow in inquiry. “I’ve been in prison,” I said in a sad voice. And left it at that. Honey flashed a grin at me, the expression startling because I was so used to the reserve she’d been carrying around with her.
Night Broken (Mercy Thompson, #8)
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