Nikita Navalkar

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“Say the word, and…” His jaw tightens. I marvel at the play of lights on the hollow of his cheekbones. “We’re going to find a time and place to meet.” It’s a subtle shift, but his fist tightens under the elbow, knuckles bleeding white. It’s a sign, a promise. Goose bumps chill my skin. “And we’re going to negotiate.”
Deep End
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