Sarah Ziemann

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Cold sweat gathers at the back of my neck. Who is this person who just came inside? This is a dry rehearsal, closed to the public. Lucas and his assistant still haven’t spotted the intruder. But I seem to be attuned to him as he descends the stairway toward the stage. He’s not alone. There’s someone trailing behind him. His movements are sleek and smooth, tigerlike.
Fallen Foe (Cruel Castaways, #2)
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