“No way. This is the greatest.” Kipp bounces, absorbing the mercenary ambiance like a kid at combat camp. But his happy expression morphs into a mask when he looks over my shoulder. Finn? I peek back. Not Finn. Jett. He stands in the shadows of the bleacher seating, black clothes, black hair, black eyes. He is the shadow. No one else notices him, but people make a space like they’re walking past a ghost. I’m not at the point where I want to give the guy a hug, but you know what I do know? Jett’s waiting for me in those shadows. One word, one touch I don’t like, and he’ll stomp throats. My
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