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Kaz felt himself drawn toward her voice like water rolling downhill.
“If we don’t survive this night, I will die unafraid, Kaz. Can you say the same?”
“The life you live, the hate you feel—it’s poison. I can drink it no longer.”
She’d laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and gotten drunk on it every night, he would have.
“little red bird. Don’t go.”

