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The color drains from Mom’s face as she looks between Mira and me, past us, and for the first time in my life, I see her wobble, like someone has knocked her off her center. Bootsteps sound behind me, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the emotions crossing Mom’s face in rapid succession long enough to look to see who it is, and honestly, I don’t need
Iron Flame (The Empyrean, #2)
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