“Watch where you’re going, Cat,” he hisses into my face. “Let go of her,” Rakel says. “Fuck off, Black Death,” Dean snarls at her. “Eat shit, Zack Morris,” Rakel sneers back at him. “Rakel!” I gasp, half-choked by Dean’s grip on my collar. “Just . . . go on without me.” She stares at me like I’m speaking Swahili. “Please!” I wheeze. “Just go.” She looks between Dean and me for several seconds. Then she narrows her eyes and says, “Fine. If that’s what you want.” She heads off to the dining hall without me. Dean releases his grip on my shirt so I can breathe again. “That’s better,” he says
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