Desiree

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“Goldfinch,” I murmur quietly so that I don’t scare her. But I must not have been as stealthy as I thought, because she doesn’t so much as flinch. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Her eyes flutter open, lashes clumped together with gilded tears. But she looks at me, and my heart stops. “Can you hear it?”
Glow (The Plated Prisoner, #4)
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