Hunt lay beside her, wings dripping wet—lightning still crackling around him. His eyes … Holy fuck, his eyes. Pure lightning filled them. No whites, no irises. Nothing but lightning. It snapped around him, vines wreathing his arms, his brow. Bryce had the vague sense of the others behind them, but she kept her focus on Hunt. “Hunt,” she gasped out. “Calm down.” Hunt snarled toward the Hind. Lightning flowed like tongues of flame from his mouth. But the Hind had fallen back, revving her wave skimmer and retreating toward her line of boats. Like she knew what kind of death Hunt was about to
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